Perceptions
by Pranksta
Summary: Complete! Sequel to Belief. What might one do with a world of mindprobing gelatine? Why, mend a broken team and rid it of fallacy, of course!
1. Chapter 1

Ronon Dex had been in the gateroom, going through his pre-gating routine: verifying his weapons, straightening his clothes. He had exited the puddle, walked through a nice enough field, heard McKay gripe about pollen and new boots and seen him fall, cut short mid-sentence. He'd taken a step toward him as Sheppard and Teyla also collapsed on the ground. The world turned to black. When he came to, it was…coloured

Everything was oh-so-very coloured.

Ronon stood hurriedly, drawing his weapon and backing into the wall, feet sinking slightly into the ground. He surveyed his surroundings. It was a moving, malleable and shiny world. Bouncy. Ronon would've even ventured as far as to say squishy. Somewhat like…Jell-O, he supposed was an apt description. Disturbing. He didn't even like it that much and here he stood, in mounds of the awful stuff. Sight scans of the area showed no immediate threat, so he did what he always did when missions turned awry: clicked his radio.

Click. Click.

Click. Click.

Click. Click.

No answering clicks came, thus he moved to the next item on the list.

"Sheppard…Teyla…McKay?"

His weapon still aimed at the squishiness, he moved away from the wall. The colours seemed to be fading into one another. Red to orange to yellow to green to blue to violet. Gray, white and black came in a flash only to be taken over by another cycle. The environment undulated prettily, calling out for him to sink into its inviting softness. Ronon shook himself out of his silly contemplation. It would not do to have his mind so easily corrupted, the room was not inviting him to anything, it was a _room_. Furthermore, he would not allow himself to be covered in gelatine for, was he to find McKay quickly enough, the man would die laughing. Naturally, Ronon had heard the jokes the scientist made about his person, and for him to be seen covered in this substance would only bring one of them to life. Jell-O wrestling to make a quick buck? No thank you. He shook his head wondering how McKay could have survived so long, with all limbs intact no less. He was so incredibly off-putting. Still, Ronon moved through the area with a new and comforting purpose. Aggravating scientist, where was he?

Already acclimatized to the feel of his new surroundings, he was as sure-footed as ever. All around him, there were ripples of green-bluish 'squish' and hadn't he been paying close attention he would've missed them completely. His team was in the squish; it covered them like a second skin, tinting them in interesting shades and making them nearly undetectable. As Ronon took a step to free the captives, a voice resounded around him, enveloping him, soft and caressing.

"Sit. Ronon Dex, you are not to disturb their slumber but are welcome to share in their experiences. We would be delighted if you would join them."

The squish trapped his feet, moulded itself to his body and he was forced to sit. An image appeared and Ronon recognised the sound of Teyla's voice.

"_Are you in pain? Doctor Beckett can give you something to ease it."_

_An old woman is lying on an infirmary bed. She looks weak, and when she speaks her voice is naught but a whisper. "Teyla."_

"_Yes, Charin?" _

"_Our journey begins." Three words and she is no longer. The telling elongated beep of the heart monitor is cut short as Teyla takes one of Charin's hands and brings it to her cheek. Her vision blurs and she lowers her head to the bed. Darkness comes as Teyla's eyes close and a harsh sob escapes her._

The image jumped, from one point in time to another.

_Teyla is sitting on her bed, her hand holding a soft strip of cloth that she runs through her fingers. She cries loudly, without restraint and her hand comes to her eyes, wiping them when needed. For a long time, she allows grief to overwhelm her. Taking a deep breath, she is suddenly in control, moving through the room to stop in front of her closet and reaches out, fingers stroking fine garments. _

It disappeared as she picked a dress of ocean colours. Ronon wished he had been there with her, wished someone had been able to help, though she would have hidden her pain from them, like the strong woman she was, or had to be. He sighed as a wooden room came to be seen.

_He sits on a bed, covered with natural cloths. His eyes roam over his surroundings. Wooden walls, floors, furniture. A vase of wildflowers sits on a wooden table. He sighs dejectedly as he relaxes back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The light coming through the window draws shadows over the room and his eyes trace them aimlessly. There is a jacket hanging on a clothes hook. He moves off the bed in one smooth movement and goes to it. Takes it into his hands, fingers running over the grey material, tracing the edge of a Velcro that should hold the Atlantis patch. He sighs once more and goes back to his bed, holding the jacket closely. _

_The chirping of birds comes through the open window, the murmurs of conversations, too low for the words to be intelligible. It's quiet and peaceful, like Atlantis never could be. The city is excitement, people, and the gentle swoosh of waves caressing its outer limits._

"_Get over yourself, John! Enough of this! Jesus! They left you behind and you can't handle another minute of this place. Get used to it, this is home now! No one's coming for you! You just have to deal with it!" The words he speaks are rational, meant to soothe his newly agitated state. Obviously, they do not help. He throws the jacket across the room with a grunt and watches as it sails through the air and collapses to the floor in a heap that mirrors his state of mind. He would crumble to the ground never to move again if he thought he would let himself get away with such behaviour._

_Settling back on his bed, John hits the mattress with tight firsts, releasing pent up energy, frustration, anger. "Get. Over. Yourself! Just get over it! They're gone and you're stuck here! If they could've gotten to you they would've…this just means…Nothing! They're not dead! Don't even go there! Just get over it!"_

_An arm comes to rest over his eyes as he closes them. "Come and get me. Let them come and get me." He hits the mattress once more and curses the man he can't help but hold responsible for his long-term stay. He knows it is childish and not the scientist's fault, but he is lost and blaming him is familiar. "Damn it McKay, you'd better find something fast!"_

The transition from one image through the next was seamless, though the new one was impossibly different. Ronon recognised the bridge of the Daedalus all around, the blackness of space stretching out in front. Two large Hive ships were releasing innumerable Darts. He supposed it was one of McKay's experiences, because if this was what he thought, Teyla and Sheppard were in one of those Darts with him.

"_Look, see that?" His hand points at one of the Hive ships._

_Caldwell's voice comes from the right. "What?"_

"_It's a Dart firing at one of the Hive ships."_

"_Why?"_

_Rodney speaks, his tone slightly awed, "Sheppard."_

_For a long moment, Rodney's eyes take in the destruction of the ships. Voices around him barely register. His eyes go from left to right, attempting to follow one Dart amongst so many. He huffs, a relieved laugh before a massive explosion takes away all living things, leaving only debris. He turns suddenly, standing in front of a screen depicting the view in codes, lines and data. _

"_Blast destroyed everything in a fifteen thousand metres radius." _

"_Did any Darts survive?" _

"_Negative, sir."_

_Rodney walks back, eyes locked on the debris floating in space. Unmoving, he takes in the devastation. Abruptly, he turns and leaves the bridge, walking quickly, almost running. He turns left at the first junction he sees. Daedalus crew watch him go but none attempt to stop him. He enters a small, darkened room. Supplies are piled high around him. He leans his forehead against the cold metal wall._

"_Oh God…oh God no…" His hands form fists and he uses his knuckles to push himself away from the wall. He remains still, quiet for an instant before hitting the mass under his hand. "Damn it! Fucking idiot! Damn it! You little punk, Ford! Why didn't you just come back with us! You…fucking…bastard…" He leans against the abused structure and slides into a crouch, running a hand over his face, regaining his equilibrium. _

For hours, Ronon sat there, eyes riveted to the images that were projected from the minds of his friends. He couldn't bear to watch and yet was unable to look away. The first few revolutions through the cycle of colours had brought memories with which he was somewhat familiar; they were those of Atlantis, of other worlds in the Pegasus Galaxy. He saw Sheppard, alone against a platoon of Genii, saw Teyla's people go the mainland whilst she stood on the upper levels of the gateroom, beside Doctor Weir. He saw McKay waiting for death, giving out instructions as Zelenka, Ford, Beckett and numerous scientists watched. He had the privilege to learn of Lieutenant Ford as Sheppard saw him on the planet where they met, as Teyla saw him in his enzyme-filled cave, as Rodney saw him in the back of a Jumper that would not jump its intended puddle.

Their lives, experiences, were laid out for him to consume. What was important, what had profoundly affected them was his for the taking and though he felt dirty, guilty, coated with betrayal, he couldn't bring himself to look away.

The images that came after featured places and people he had never seen or heard of. When the blue came for the fifth time, sadness, loss and grief followed. He heard a laugh and recognised it as Teyla's, but the world was unfamiliar, as was the young man she was facing.

"_You are telling me fables Kiley, I will not be made a fool!"_

"_Teyla, it cannot be avoided, the Emmagans are fools, through and through."_

"_We certainly are not! I am the daughter of your Leader! Perhaps you should contemplate your faith, should I decide to be rid of you!" _

_Kiley grasps Teyla's hand and smiles. "You shall never make such a decision. I am your favourite, out of all of our people. You shall never be rid of me!"_

"_You have the right to hold onto such silly beliefs if it makes your rest more pleasant!"_

The image jumped suddenly and Ronon sat, forced to watch through Teyla's eyes as she ran through wooden lands, tears streaming down her face, sobs echoing harshly through the night.

_She reaches the gate and dials hurriedly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. A village, or rather its remains, stands on the other side. The smoke from numerous fires still comes from the small wooden huts and she searches each one of them until she finds one in which life still resides. In her panic, she does not notice the desolate state of the village, but searches, crying out for help._

"_Halling! Halling! It's Kiley! He's been injured! Please, you must come! I was unable to bring him. Please!"_

"_Shhhh, Teyla! Stop!"_

_Grasping Halling's hand, Teyla attempts to bring him to Kiley. She has to help him; he will die if left in the forest too long. _

"_Come, we must hurry!"_

_Halling takes her face between his hands and stills her. "Teyla, we have been culled."_

_Still pulling him out of the hut, it takes a moment for his words to register in Teyla's panic-tinted world. She is pleading for him to follow once again before the full depth of the night's event collapses around her. "Culled?"_

"_Yes." _

_They stand, silent, for long minutes. Teyla speaks one word and the answer is clear in the crestfallen look upon Halling's face._

"_Father?"_

The image dissipated as Teyla collapsed to the ground, to be rocked gently in the circle of Halling's arms. Her cries echoed in the coloured world. It was but a moment before another image materialised. Ronon saw through someone's eyes, just as he had before. He, it was a man judging by the amount of hair coating the arm he'd glimpsed, walked through an empty house.

_He exits a room and stands at the top of the staircase. Hard wooden floors below his feet, striped wallpaper on which paler rectangles are visible, where picture frames once hung. He goes down slowly, taking one step at a time, watching his hand slide down the handrail. He stops at the bottom, hand on an ornate sphere, a finishing touch to the nicely carved piece of architecture. _

_Footsteps echo through the barren halls and he turns. A man appears in the doorway, tall and imposing in a black suit, a white shirt starched to an inch of its life. He draws closer and his green eyes glint in the sunlight streaming through the half-moon window, over the front door. His dark hair is greying at the temples._

"_You found everything?"_

"_Yeah."_

_The man's impassive face is intimidating, the eyes curious as they sweep over him appraisingly. He must've seen something in the face he scrutinizes, for his composure slips, if only for a moment._

"_Your mother…she…I didn't know, she never said…it was a long time ago. This is unexpected, you understand? She never told me she was pregnant, it was just one night, we were kids and, here you are. I can't…I never wanted to be a father, alright?" The man spits out the last words, harshly._

"_That's ok Sir, I don't need one."_

"_She left you plenty, didn't she? Plus, you're what, 19 now? You'll do fine."_

"_I will."_

_The man shakes the shoulder he's clasped, in a strange acknowledgement, and walks away. He stops just outside the house and turns his head, giving a view of his right profile in addition to the strong, straight back. The younger man frowns as his eyes settle on a slightly pointed and wholly familiar ear._

"_You know where to find me, if you're ever in need."_

_He leaves. The young man grabs a backpack that lies by the stairs and stands on the threshold, eyes roaming over bare walls, gleaming floors, empty rooms. Breathing in deeply, he exits the house and locks the door. His eyes linger on the flowerbeds that border the driveway as he walks away. _

Again, the image jumped, seemingly forward in time. Ronon saw a woman, smiling kindly. She sat at a desk, a large logo stretched behind her head: big A's, one blue and one red, separated by some kind of…bird.

"_Hello, how may I help you?"_

"_Picking up a ticket."_

"_Name?"_

"_John Sheppard."_

_The woman smiles and John turns his head, spying his reflection in the Plexiglas to the left of the airline employee. Sheppard, barely a man, scowls at himself before returning his attention to the woman, a charming smile curving his mouth._

"_Are you checking any bags?"_

"_No, I only have this." He raises his backpack over the counter so she can see. _

"_Travelling light! Easy when you're young!"_

"_I only have this." The comment is whispered, unheard by the woman who continues to smile warmly._

The image blinked out to be replaced immediately by another.

_Hands come in and out of focus, small with plump little fingers, until one is raised to wipe away blinding tears. Jean-clad legs are stretched on the floor and sobs fill the silence. A loud snort is followed by an attempt to regain control but the child cannot hold back his tears. A louder sob escapes and hand comes to clasp against mouth. The door opens suddenly and a man enters the room._

"_Are you ok?" the man asks, seemingly puzzled._

"_Yes…" A snort follows the whispered word._

"_Your parents are here."_

_The boy nods. The man exits the room as a couple comes in. They tower over the boy, arms crossed, straight backs, frowning faces. _

"_What have you done now?" the woman says with a sigh. _

"_Don't coddle him! He didn't think and got what he deserved. Isn't that right?"_

_The boy nods as another sob escapes him._

"_Are you stupid? Is that why you're here?"_

"_No," the boy answers, weakly, wetly. _

"_NO? You're not stupid? Then what possessed you to build a bomb for the science fair! What could you have been thinking!?"_

"_It's just a working model." Justification comes, but does not soothe the man whose face is reddening, pitch climbing, voice rising. _

"_It's just a-- Meredith MCKAY! What were you THINKING!"_

"_Julian, don't shout in public."_

_The man and the woman turn to each other. _

"_I will shout in public if I feel the need to, Janet! Our son is a bumbling idiot! What do you except me to do? Praise him for his initiative and spirit of inventiveness!"_

"_Lower your voice, he's clearly distraught, and people are listening." The last world is hissed. The horror of the listening people is more powerful than that of the heartbroken boy. _

"_Let them listen! Let them hear that we're raising children who have even less brains than sense!"_

_The woman's voice reaches a screeching tone when she answers. "They're children!"_

"_It's certainly not a reason! I will not tolerate such ridiculousness in my house." The man turns back to the boy. "Do you hear me? I will not tolerate this from you! Now get up, we're going home right now. What a colossal waste of time!"_

_The couple turns back and exits the room without waiting for the boy who wipes his eyes, straightens with a long breath, and follows._

When the image faded away, Ronon understood many things he had no right to know. He felt like his mind had been poisoned with the personal details of his friends' lives. It would continue to be so for some times.

"_Stop! Stop!"_

Ronon's hands fisted at his side. He could not sit and watch, could not bear to see a woman in such jeopardy, even through the ugly magic of a memory screen.

"_Stop! No! No! STOP! NO!"_

_A hand comes, snakes around a young woman's neck and large brown eyes see only the smiling face of her assailant. He is a nice looking man, dark hair, darker eyes, a slight bulge under his chin from indulging in the good things life can offer. She attempts to move, to dislodge him, but he presses her down against the grass, pressing in so her airway is partly blocked. _

"_Beautiful. Miss Emmagan, you are simply beautiful. You haven't been to visit in so long. I have missed you."_

"_You are shaming yourself, your family and your people!"_

"_Now, now, play nice little girl, wouldn't want to make me angry now, would we?"_

"_I can assure you, I would!" _

Venom coated the voice of the person watching this event and Ronon recognised Teyla's unmistakable threatening speech pattern. This Miss Emmagan, held against the ground, was not a younger Teyla, though she did look quite like her. Teyla has a sister. _Had _a sister.

_The man laughs. "If your intentions were malicious, Teyla Emmagan, you would have dealt with me long ago. Yet, here I am and so are you. I can only assume you have come to take your rightful place so that I can cease to settle for Adene." The man has released the girl he held and is facing Teyla, his lecherous gaze roaming freely over her form._

"_You will cease." Teyla moves so fast, the man is left with no time to move. The small knife slides rapidly in his neck and his face registers surprise before alarm. Blood pours out of the wound left gaping by the vicious removal of the knife He falls to the ground in a loud thump, sending a small cloud of dirt in the air. Teyla has already turned away, she cradles her sister in her arms and rocks her gently. "Adene, you are safe. He will never touch you again." _

The environment around Ronon was a bright red, at the apex of its depth. It would soon glide into a slow orange, but for now it was red as the blood Teyla had spilled, as red as the anger that coursed through him, that was unmistakably coursing through her. He couldn't help but understand her a little better. He had seen what he might've brought to the forefront of her mind with his disposal of Kell. He had known then that Teyla had lived through many difficulties, had known hardship, like him. He had thought that perhaps her life had been easier whilst she was surrounded by the people she loved. Secure, in this dangerous world. Now he saw that she too had known betrayal, had known anger beyond any reason. He thought, maybe she understood him better than he did her.

The next image came and right away he realised who this one would feature. So strange, so incredibly familiar; he assumed this one would be angry as well, and he wondered if this was the angriest John Sheppard had ever been. It surprised him and yet it did not; Sheppard defined intensity, but embodied an easy-going nature so his anger was rare, short-lived and always came in extreme circumstances. He allowed others to revolve around him without ever letting them touch him, affect him, change him. Ronon believed, now more than ever, that _they_ had changed Sheppard.

_McKay is typing furiously, his back to him. He speaks, "I can bring it back under control! Just give me a second!"_

_A few steps and he grabs his jacket, turns him around. They are standing so close, too close. McKay's face is worry and fury combined. Sheppard's voice carries the same intensity. "No you can't!"_

_McKay pulls away, roughly, turning back to his screen. "Just one second!"_

_Sheppard walks around, speaks fast and low, close to McKay, who isn't looking at him, not at all, until he hits the console and gains his attention. "I've seen this before, Rodney: pilots who wouldn't eject when something went wrong. Trying to fix their planes right until it hit the ground!"_

The image changed at that precise moment. It was not a smooth, continuous show. It was bits and pieces, erratic. Sound came and went. Highlights, Sheppard's remembering of a memory inside a memory.

_The sky is impossibly blue, there are no clouds, the sun is shining brightly. The air is tranquil, an amused voice speaks through a radio._

"_Ya know, you're the biggest jerk to ever grace the soil."_

"_That's why he's a pilot, jackass. Nobody wants him on solid ground."_

_The man flying through the sky doesn't answer, simply chuckles quietly. A moment, all is peaceful, beautiful, breathtaking. The next, an angry black cloud follows a diving metallic bird. Sheppard shouts orders. _

"_EJECT! EJECT! EJECT!"_

_A small voice comes to him, through the radio, the same one that was teasing him only a moment before. "I can fix it! A second! Just need a second!"_

_He dives and sees the fireball that comes from below, the massive explosion that makes a hole in the ground. He hits the side of the control panel. _A shudder_, he's suddenly standing straight, listening to a man speak about the eternal grace of God. His hands are fisted on the back of the wooden bench in front of him. He doesn't hear a word, only the whine of a plunging plane and the voice that asks for one second. His eyes are fixed on a long, flat wooden box, highly polished, garnished with a wreath. He doesn't see it. _

The image disappearedOnce again, Ronon was torn. He hated the intrusion, but couldn't help the knowledge from seeping into his being. He _knew_ Sheppard like he never could have, like he never would have been permitted to. He wanted to know more, and Ronon wished he didn't. He sighed as another image came, knowing this one would be Rodney's anger and he wouldn't look away, couldn't bring himself to ask for it to stop.

Violence, not what he would have expected.

"_DAMN IT! DAMN IT!" A fist collides roughly with a metallic box. It's long and narrow and stands besides many others. A hollow sound escapes when the fist hits it again, again and again. It leaves an imprint, a small curve in the otherwise smooth surface. _

_Eyes moves, left to right, barely taking in the environment. "DAMN IT!"_

_Quick steps take him down the stairs, through a corridor. He keeps screaming, cursing, hitting random walls, kicking random things. A chair, a trashcan, a discarded piece of paper. _

_He seems to reach his destination. He wrenches the door open and walks into a lush office. Dark wood, soft buttery leather. A woman sits primly at a large desk and eyes him over half-moon glasses._

"_Yes?" He face is impassive but her tone speaks of her dislike._

"_I need to see Doctor Ross."_

"_He is not available. He sees student only on Mondays and Thursdays. You know that very well Mister McKay."_

"_Listen…" his tone is threatening. He places one hand on the desk, leaning forward, the other raised, a finger pointing in accusation. "I need to see Doctor Ross. Today. Now!"_

"_Really, this is unnecessary. If you wish to make an appointment…"_

"_Ah forget it!" Rodney stalks away, enters a door to the left and stops, dead in his tracks. A man is sitting on a big leather chair, comfortably reclined, smiling up at a young woman sitting on the desk. He turns his gaze to Rodney and loses all trace of pleasure. _

"_Ah, Rodney. Come in. I assume you want to speak of your thesis, ummmm? It's lucky, Miss Harrington is here. We can resolve this little matter right now, can't we?" His eyes move past Rodney and take in the woman who followed him. "Thank you Mrs. Smith."_

_The door closes, Rodney moves closer to the desk, his eyes moving over Doctor Ross, who is still sitting in his chair, straightened up, his hands linked on the desk. Miss Harrington smiles prettily at Rodney before claiming a chair. He sits next to her._

"_Let's see what we can do about this, shall we?"_

"_You can expel her! She's a thief!"_

_The woman laughs coquettishly, as if Rodney has made a terribly funny, yet inappropriate joke. "Oh Rodney. You don't believe that! It's just, a misunderstanding!"_

"_You stole my project! You took my notes!"_

"_I didn't! Be reasonable!"_

"_I am reasonable! You stole my research! You copied everything!"_

"_I'm sure Heather didn't intent to steal. Great minds think alike?"_

"_Oh no! You can't seriously think she's in the same league as I am! Are you insane! Jesus! She'll be lucky is she makes it as a lab assistant!"_

"_You don't need to be mean!" Heather pouts prettily. She's playing dumb and Doctor Ross seems to be playing along with her._

"_Yeah well, the truth hurts!" Rodney crosses his arms over his chest and he huffs. His voice is loud, he's aggressive. "I want her expelled! I want written apologies!"_

"_There will be an inquest. We'll get to the bottom of this…soon, very soon…" Doctor Ross is interrupted by the voice of his secretary, telling him someone important is on line two. He dismisses the two students with a wave. _

_They exit the office, walk down the hall. The woman strives to keep up with Rodney's fast pace. "You know McKay, I would've thought you'd be a lot more original than this. I dump you and you tell everyone I stole your thesis research. You're pathetic, and jealous. It's not my fault I had the idea first."_

"_You're lying! You're lying! I can't believe you! You'd risk your career…**my career**, because suddenly you don't like me!"_

_She lowers her voice and sneers at him. "Ah come on Rodney, you can't be that clueless; **no one** likes you! Ok, I'll admit, you were…entertaining, but I have no use for you now. Let it go, you're the fucking genius, just find something else and give me a fucking break."_

_She turns and walks away. McKay stands still, watching her. _

Ronon did not understand what had happened. He saw the anger, practically felt it emanating from McKay, but did not really see the problem. He thought he had seen betrayal; the woman was humouring him, using him…but…thesis? Perhaps, when it was all over, when they were safe in Atlantis, Ronon would ask, subtly, what might've been the situation.

He sat and waited, but no more images came. He was both sorry and relieved. The orange faded into yellow and the voice spoke. It was no longer enticing, caressing. It was simply a voice that surrounded him.

"They will rest. You will be…fed." The voice paused before the last word, as if it was a foreign concept.

"They need to eat too."

"That is…inconvenient…"

For a long time, Ronon didn't hear anything. He prowled in front of his team, somewhat like a caged animal, even though he was the freest of them all. He hadn't thought about food, about water, about sleep. Thought about nothing but his team and the memories that were now burnt into his mind. He'd seen abandonment, loss, grief. Anger, betrayal, powerlessness. He'd seen what had never been meant to be seen.

In a way, Ronon was the luckiest of them all. He'd had a loving family for so long and although he had been alone, truly alone, for quite some time, he had never doubted that he had been loved. Never had to fight for his siblings to be safe from anyone, anything but the Wraith. Never had been told that he was alone, a burden, unwanted. He hadn't chosen the military because he had no place else to go. Never had been discarded when in pain, when in tears, never left outside to cry. He'd been a happy child, grew into a happy young man. The Wraith had destroyed his life, made it painful, not his family, not his people. Of course, he carried the burden of his difficult journey, but that had occurred later in life. They had lived through so much hardship, even as children. How was it, that for Sheppard and McKay, a life without the Wraith hadn't meant freedom and happiness? He'd known more of the good things life could offer than they had and wasn't that a situation upon witch to ponder. Thinking back to the chasm that had nearly driven them all apart, he understood why they had not been able to speak, why they had hidden behind anger and silence. He was as guilty as they had been, but now he thought he could help them all move past their need for stoicism, form a stronger bond. All he needed was the courage to admit he had watched as private moments unfolded.

The voice came. "We will allow them to feed, to sleep."

Just like that, the squishiness released them and they fell into a pile. Ronon felt soiled as his eyes met with theirs, yet strangely encouraged. For all the danger they might still face, much right would come out of this wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

The angw/Pranksta production continues :) Thanks Angela!

**Correspondence**

"_Stop! Stop!"_

Ronon's hands fisted at his side. He could not sit and watch, could not bear to see a woman in such jeopardy, even through the ugly magic of a memory screen.

"_Stop! No! No! STOP! NO!"_

_A hand comes, snakes around a young woman's neck and large brown eyes see only the smiling face of her assailant. He is a nice looking man, dark hair, darker eyes, a slight bulge under his chin from indulging in the good things life can offer. She attempts to move, to dislodge him, but he presses her down against the grass, pressing in so her airway is partly blocked. _

"_Beautiful. Miss Emmagan, you are simply beautiful. You haven't been to visit in so long. I have missed you."_

"_You are shaming yourself, your family and your people!"_

"_Now, now, play nice little girl, wouldn't want to make me angry now, would we?"_

"_I can assure you, I would!" _

Venom coated the voice of the person watching this event and Ronon recognised Teyla's unmistakable threatening speech pattern. This Miss Emmagan, held against the ground, was not a younger Teyla, though she did look quite like her. Teyla has a sister. _Had _a sister.

_The man laughs. "If your intentions were malicious, Teyla Emmagan, you would have dealt with me long ago. Yet, here I am and so are you. I can only assume you have come to take your rightful place so that I can cease to settle for Adene." The man has released the girl he held and is facing Teyla, his lecherous gaze roaming freely over her form._

"_You will cease." Teyla moves so fast, the man is left with no time to move. The small knife slides rapidly in his neck and his face registers surprise before alarm. Blood pours out of the wound left gaping by the vicious removal of the knife He falls to the ground in a loud thump, sending a small cloud of dirt in the air. Teyla has already turned away, she cradles her sister in her arms and rocks her gently. "Adene, you are safe. He will never touch you again." _

The environment around Ronon was a bright red, at the apex of its depth. It would soon glide into a slow orange, but for now, it was red as the blood Teyla had spilled, as red as the anger that coursed through him, that was unmistakably coursing through her. He couldn't help but understand her a little better. He had seen what he might've brought to the forefront of her mind with his disposal of Kell. He had known then that Teyla had lived through many difficulties, had known hardship, like him. He had thought that perhaps her life had been easier whilst she was surrounded by the people she loved. Secure, in this dangerous world. Now he saw that she too had known betrayal, had known anger beyond any reason. He thought, maybe she understood him better than he did her.

The next image came and right away he realised who this one would feature. So strange, so incredibly familiar; he assumed this one would be angry as well, and he wondered if this was the angriest John Sheppard had ever been. It surprised him and yet it did not; Sheppard defined intensity, but embodied an easy-going nature so his anger was rare, short-lived and always came in extreme circumstances. He allowed others to revolve around him without ever letting them touch him, affect him, change him. Ronon believed, now more than ever, that _they_ had changed Sheppard.

_McKay is typing furiously, his back to him. He speaks, "I can bring it back under control! Just give me a second!"_

_A few steps and he grabs his jacket, turns him around. They are standing so close, too close. McKay's face is worry and fury combined. Sheppard's voice carries the same intensity. "No you can't!"_

_McKay pulls away, roughly, turning back to his screen. "Just one second!"_

_Sheppard walks around, speaks fast and low, close to McKay, who isn't looking at him, not at all, until he hits the console and gains his attention. "I've seen this before, Rodney: pilots who wouldn't eject when something went wrong. Trying to fix their planes right until it hit the ground!"_

The image changed at that precise moment. It was not a smooth, continuous show. It was bits and pieces, erratic. Sound came and went. Highlights, Sheppard's remembering of a memory inside a memory.

_The sky is impossibly blue, there are no clouds, the sun is shining brightly. The air is tranquil, an amused voice speaks through a radio._

"_Ya know, you're the biggest jerk to ever grace the soil."_

"_That's why he's a pilot, jackass. Nobody wants him on solid ground."_

_The man flying through the sky doesn't answer, simply chuckles quietly. A moment, all is peaceful, beautiful, breathtaking. The next, an angry black cloud follows a diving metallic bird. Sheppard shouts orders. _

"_EJECT! EJECT! EJECT!"_

_A small voice comes to him, through the radio, the same one that was teasing him only a moment before. "I can fix it! A second! Just need a second!"_

_He dives and sees the fireball that comes from below, the massive explosion that makes a hole in the ground. He hits the side of the control panel. _A shudder_, he's suddenly standing straight, listening to a man speak about the eternal grace of God. His hands are fisted on the back of the wooden bench in front of him. He doesn't hear a word, only the whine of a plunging plane and the voice that asks for one second. His eyes are fixed on a long, flat wooden box, highly polished, garnished with a wreath. He doesn't see it. _

The image disappearedOnce again, Ronon was torn. He hated the intrusion, but couldn't help the knowledge from seeping into his being. He _knew_ Sheppard like he never could have, like he never would have been permitted to. He wanted to know more, and Ronon wished he didn't. He sighed as another image came, knowing this one would be Rodney's anger and he wouldn't look away, couldn't bring himself to ask for it to stop.

Violence, not what he would have expected.

"_DAMN IT! DAMN IT!" A fist collides roughly with a metallic box. It's long and narrow and stands besides many others. A hollow sound escapes when the fist hits it again, again and again. It leaves an imprint, a small curve in the otherwise smooth surface. _

_Eyes moves, left to right, barely taking in the environment. "DAMN IT!"_

_Quick steps take him down the stairs, through a corridor. He keeps screaming, cursing, hitting random walls, kicking random things. A chair, a trashcan, a discarded piece of paper. _

_He seems to reach his destination. He wrenches the door open and walks into a lush office. Dark wood, soft buttery leather. A woman sits primly at a large desk and eyes him over half-moon glasses._

"_Yes?" He face is impassive but her tone speaks of her dislike._

"_I need to see Doctor Ross."_

"_He is not available. He sees student only on Mondays and Thursdays. You know that very well Mister McKay."_

"_Listen…" his tone is threatening. He places one hand on the desk, leaning forward, the other raised, a finger pointing in accusation. "I need to see Doctor Ross. Today. Now!"_

"_Really, this is unnecessary. If you wish to make an appointment…"_

"_Ah forget it!" Rodney stalks away, enters a door to the left and stops, dead in his tracks. A man is sitting on a big leather chair, comfortably reclined, smiling up at a young woman sitting on the desk. He turns his gaze to Rodney and loses all trace of pleasure. _

"_Ah, Rodney. Come in. I assume you want to speak of your thesis, ummmm? It's lucky, Miss Harrington is here. We can resolve this little matter right now, can't we?" His eyes move past Rodney and take in the woman who followed him. "Thank you Mrs. Smith."_

_The door closes, Rodney moves closer to the desk, his eyes moving over Doctor Ross, who is still sitting in his chair, straightened up, his hands linked on the desk. Miss Harrington smiles prettily at Rodney before claiming a chair. He sits next to her._

"_Let's see what we can do about this, shall we?"_

"_You can expel her! She's a thief!"_

_The woman laughs coquettishly, as if Rodney has made a terribly funny, yet inappropriate joke. "Oh Rodney. You don't believe that! It's just, a misunderstanding!"_

"_You stole my project! You took my notes!"_

"_I didn't! Be reasonable!"_

"_I am reasonable! You stole my research! You copied everything!"_

"_I'm sure Heather didn't intent to steal. Great minds think alike?"_

"_Oh no! You can't seriously think she's in the same league as I am! Are you insane! Jesus! She'll be lucky is she makes it as a lab assistant!"_

"_You don't need to be mean!" Heather pouts prettily. She's playing dumb and Doctor Ross seems to be playing along with her._

"_Yeah well, the truth hurts!" Rodney crosses his arms over his chest and he huffs. His voice is loud, he's aggressive. "I want her expelled! I want written apologies!"_

"_There will be an inquest. We'll get to the bottom of this…soon, very soon…" Doctor Ross is interrupted by the voice of his secretary, telling him someone important is on line two. He dismisses the two students with a wave. _

_They exit the office, walk down the hall. The woman strives to keep up with Rodney's fast pace. "You know McKay, I would've thought you'd be a lot more original than this. I dump you and you tell everyone I stole your thesis research. You're pathetic, and jealous. It's not my fault I had the idea first."_

"_You're lying! You're lying! I can't believe you! You'd risk your career…**my career**, because suddenly you don't like me!"_

_She lowers her voice and sneers at him. "Ah come on Rodney, you can't be that clueless; **no one** likes you! Ok, I'll admit, you were…entertaining, but I have no use for you now. Let it go, you're the fucking genius, just find something else and give me a fucking break."_

_She turns and walks away. McKay stands still, watching her. _

Ronon did not understand what had happened. He saw the anger, practically felt it emanating from McKay, but did not really see the problem. He thought he had seen betrayal; the woman was humouring him, using him…but…thesis? Perhaps, when it was all over, when they were safe in Atlantis, Ronon would ask, subtly, what might've been the situation.

He sat and waited, but no more images came. He was both sorry and relieved. The orange faded into yellow and the voice spoke. It was no longer enticing, caressing. It was simply a voice that surrounded him.

"They will rest. You will be…fed." The voice paused before the last word, as if it was a foreign concept.

"They need to eat too."

"That is…inconvenient…"

For a long time, Ronon didn't hear anything. He prowled in front of his team, somewhat like a caged animal, even though he was the freest of them all. He hadn't thought about food, about water, about sleep. Thought about nothing but his team and the memories that were now burnt into his mind. He'd seen abandonment, loss, grief. Anger, betrayal, powerlessness. He'd seen what had never been meant to be seen.

In a way, Ronon was the luckiest of them all. He'd had a loving family for so long and although he had been alone, truly alone, for quite some time, he had never doubted that he had been loved. Never had to fight for his siblings to be safe from anyone, anything but the Wraith. Never had been told that he was alone, a burden, unwanted. He hadn't chosen the military because he had no place else to go. Never had been discarded when in pain, when in tears, never left outside to cry. He'd been a happy child, grew into a happy young man. The Wraith had destroyed his life, made it painful, not his family, not his people. Of course, he carried the burden of his difficult journey, but that had occurred later in life. They had lived through so much hardship, even as children. How was it, that for Sheppard and McKay, a life without the Wraith hadn't meant freedom and happiness? He'd known more of the good things life could offer than they had and wasn't that a situation upon witch to ponder. Thinking back to the chasm that had nearly driven them all apart, he understood why they had not been able to speak, why they had hidden behind anger and silence. He was as guilty as they had been, but now he thought he could help them all move past their need for stoicism, form a stronger bond. All he needed was the courage to admit he had watched as private moments unfolded.

The voice came. "We will allow them to feed, to sleep."

Just like that, the squishiness released them and they fell into a pile. Ronon felt soiled as his eyes met with theirs, yet strangely encouraged. For all the danger they might still face, much right would come out of this wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

Disorganised? For sure. If you didn't do such a marvelous job, I'm not sure this thing would be anything but gibberish :) Yeah Angela!

Thanks for the wonderful comments,you people are maaaarvelous!

**Energy**

Ronon approached them slowly. They seemed unharmed and remarkably ungelatined, sitting up groaning and moaning. McKay leaned against the wall but quickly changed tactics when his back started sinking in. He scooted away and stood hurriedly.

"What the hell is that?" He directed his question at Ronon, who seemed to be the most aware of the group. With a glance at Teyla's still closed eyes and at Sheppard's frown, Rodney thought he had made a judicious choice.

"Jell-O."

"What?" Annoyed, somewhat angry and voice lilting with superiority of the 'you are an idiot and yet I am obligated to ask you for information' kind, McKay revised his evaluation. Not so judicious in the end.

"It's bouncy, squishy, coloured and see-through. Jell-O."

"Right, of course, did you come up with that conclusion yourself or did Watson come around to give you a hand?" At Ronon's puzzled look, McKay held up a hand. "Never mind that. Where are we, how did we get here?"

"Don't know. We were walking, you were whining, you all fell and I woke up here. Found you in the wall." There was more, of course there was more. He could add that he had just gotten a ticket for a private 'memoirs screening', but he did not. Couldn't spring this on them without warning or a plan. Besides, it was possible that it wouldn't happen again, they were out of the wall weren't they? They didn't seem to remember anything; it would be useless embarrassment to tell them.

"Right. Well, I'm supposing you didn't find our packs?" He patted his vest and drew out a Life Sign Detector. "Seems we're the only life-signs in the immediate vicinity, that's somewhat positive, isn't it?"

"Did you see anyone?" Sheppard also patted his vest. He still had his weapons, nothing was missing, nothing had been removed at all. It eased his worry. Whoever had brought them here either were not very smart or had no intention of harming them.

"No. I stopped here when I found you. There was a voice, said it would bring food."

"Voice? What kind of voice?" Sheppard enquired after the voice as McKay enquired after the food. "Food? What kind of food?"

"Loud, echoed all around. Didn't see anyone, but it sounds human. There's not much here but I didn't go too far. I stuck close to where you were."

"Alright, we should scout out the area. Teyla, you and McKay stay here, try to figure out what is that thing and what it's doing."

"Oh sure, I'll write you up a nice, tidy report while you go cavorting with your buddy there, is that to your liking?"

"Nah, just tell me when I come back, it'll be fine, don't like reports all that much." Sheppard took out his Beretta and followed Ronon.

"You ok?"

"Sure, didn't wake up in a wall."

"Yeah well, technically, neither did I. What happened in there?"

"Not much from what I could see. Good camouflage in that thing, nearly walked right by the spot."

"Ummm."

The two men walked through the area, side by side, staying alert. There was only the 'squish' as far as the eye could see. No door, windows, furniture. No signs of a civilisation, or even life forms.

"Nothing much here, let's head back."

Ronon nodded and turned back, matching his step with Sheppard's. When they reached the area where they had left Teyla and McKay, they found them sitting around a mountain of food. McKay was obviously explaining something to Teyla if the expansive movement of his arms were any indicators.

"It's really fascinating! If we could find out who created and controls this, we could adapt it to so many things! Just on mission like these, we could power any sort of equipment we wanted!"

Teyla looked up as she heard them, a grateful look upon her face. "Have you found anything of interest, Colonel?"

"Nah, mostly Jell-O…"

"Well, that is something quite interesting you know." McKay rose to his feet, chewing a piece of fruit. "This substance had incredible power harnessing capabilities. I think it draws it from whatever living matter it comes in contact with. Look, if I just put my hand through it…look, look, do you see that, massive spike. The further I go in, the more it rises." McKay kept pushing his arm forward, up to the shoulder.

"McKay!" Sheppard stepped over and pulled him out. "Jesus, don't go in there! You don't even know what it does!"

"It's not dangerous! Look!" McKay grabbed Sheppard's hand and attempted to pull him in. The Colonel wrenched himself away from the scientist's grasp.

"Don't!"

"Really, Colonel, I've done it plenty of times already, nothing happens, there's just a power increase."

"Yeah well, I don't want to go in that thing!" He knew it was silly, but it felt too much like the material of the Sancta and it was incredibly unnerving. The way it closed over the skin. He felt like it was pulling him in, like it wouldn't let go until Sheppard gave up, gave himself to it. A shiver ran through him as he remembered his numerous encounters with the horrible device.

"Fine. Don't! Teyla'll do it! She's willing to help me for the betterment of science, for the sake of a new discover which, might I add, would serve so many applications! I was just saying, we could take it on missions, use it to power anything that's not a power-eater. It would be a simple matter of incorporating it! If we could just meet the people who created it…it's amazing really! They must be an incredibly advanced civilisation."

"Who seem to have kidnapped us and have made no effort to communicate, except with Ronon."

"They gave us food and water, didn't they? They can't want us dead if they're feeding us! Speaking of which, you should try that thing. It's really good, sort of a cross between, ummmm, a pear and a strawberry I'd say. You like berries don't you? You were moaning over them the other day anyways, on that planet, the one with all the mime people!"

"They are the Torounds Rodney, and they have made a vow of silence."

"Yeah yeah, whatever they're called. It's still good food." McKay turned away, oblivious to the effect his innocuous comment had had on his team leader. Teyla was not so unaware. "Colonel?"

"Yeah?" Sheppard shook himself out of his reminiscing. It was a coincidence. That fruit didn't have anything to do with Oblee, with his essence, with the Sancta. It was just a damn coincidence. The Jell-O thing, the fruit, the dread, the weight of lead in the pit of his stomach. Just a big, disturbing coincidence.

"Are you unwell?"

"No, I'm fine…hungry I guess…" He tried his charming smile, his 'everything's honky-dory folks' smile, but it didn't take. Teyla saw through it now, saw through him too easily sometimes.

As they ate, McKay walked around their immediate area, sinking various body parts in the squish, his eyes fixed on his scanner, mumbling to himself. Sheppard sank his teeth into the fruit McKay had indicated and the taste was exactly the same. He had eaten so many of them whilst he was detained with the others, waiting to give back his life to a man he would never meet. He couldn't go through with this again, but the memories were so close, triggered by the taste exploding on his tongue. He sat quietly, remembering how it had been to be left behind, and not only then. No, John Sheppard had been left behind plenty of times before, either by conscious choice or by death. His mother, his father, his friends, his team. Everyone eventually left him, discarded him, abandoned him.

He shook his head. What the hell had brought this on? God, his father! He hadn't thought of him in years, and yet he could picture the scene so clearly. The empty house, the banister under his hand, the man who couldn't cope with having a son. His eyes sought out Rodney's position. He hadn't left…yet. Been too close too many time, he'd do it eventually. Turn his back on him, whether intentionally or not. He watched him put his arm in the squish but he didn't stop there. He continued pushing in, eyes fixed to the scanner. He put in a leg and Sheppard had enough. He jumped to his feet, stalked to the man's position and yanked him out.

"Hey!"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Don't go in there!"

"It's completely safe, I told you!"

"You don't know that! Don't go in."

"I'm just trying to determine how it works, you told me to!"

"You've played around enough." Sheppard pulled him roughly away and forced him to sit by Ronon.

"Ok, that's not necessary! I have work to do, that's why I'm here you know, to examine things. I don't go on missions because I enjoy them and certainly not to be manhandled by a despotic Colonel!" McKay rose to his feet, intent on going back to his experiment.

Sheppard pushed him back down to the ground, rougher than he intended. "You sit there and don't move a muscle!"

"What's wrong with you? Jesus Sheppard! You could've really hurt me just then!"

"You stuff yourself in that wall again, I just might do that!"

"You're threatening me with random acts of violence, _again_! That's so very mature!"

"Sometimes you don't give me much choice! Don't go in there, we don't know what it is or what it does!"

"We're not going to find out if we don't! You think the answer's going to pop right in front of our faces and dance the mambo? It doesn't work that way!"

"Ok, fine, you know what? You want to go in there, you go in there! See if I give a damn. Just more paperwork that's all. A dead astrophysicist it just an extra report. It's not like we'd have to bring back your body or anything." The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. A dead astrophysicist. Not just any, a dead Rodney McKay. Yeah, that wouldn't work too well for Sheppard. Elizabeth had been right, sometimes you had to save Rodney from himself, and why was he even on that train of thought. God, that Arcturus fiasco was so long ago, he'd done the forgive and forget thing! Why was it back? Why was it trailing along Andy and his stupid crash? No way was Rodney going that way! He was needed here, he wasn't going to be allowed to endanger himself anymore!

"I'm not going to die in there Sheppard! Don't be so melodramatic, you're military, it doesn't suit you at all!"

"I'm tuning you out now McKay. Ronon, you can watch him, I need a break!"

Rodney stood still, confused and hesitant. "Well…that's just rude you know…you can't sic Ronon on me!"

"Tuning you out." Sheppard took out his weapon and stalked away. Teyla and Ronon looked at each other, concerned. Ronon made a movement with his head, indicating the Colonel. He would stay with McKay, she should go and see what was wrong. Though he knew exactly what was happening. Apparently, memories that had been pulled to the front of the mind had not receded gently back into the corner to which they had been neatly packed away. He should tell them what had been done in the walls, he should say that it was dangerous, prevent McKay from going in. If he did and the images came back whilst Teyla and Sheppard were there to witness, they would know and he wouldn't be able to see them anymore! He hoped they would not discover the true purpose of the substance, he longed to see more.

Disgusted with himself as he realised where his thoughts were leading him, Ronon looked at McKay, still hovering, watching as Sheppard and Teyla walked away. "Sit down McKay."

That worked.

"Colonel!"

Sheppard sighed. He didn't want company, didn't want Teyla's concerned gaze, searching his features, finding whatever was there to be found. "Teyla."

"Are you unwell?"

"Nah, I'm fine. You know McKay, always there to piss people off."

"I doubt that was his intention."

"Yeah…I just needed a break."

"I can relate to that feeling. He has been quite overwhelming in his enthusiasm."

"He tends to do that."

They walked in silence for a moment, both lost in thoughts, in memories so long ago forgotten.

Ronon watched McKay carefully, as he sat, a thoughtful look upon his face. He was no longer consulting his scanner, nor observing the walls, nor mumbling under his breath about Colonels who didn't respect anything and had to lord over one and all. He was silent, somewhat sullen, lost in thoughts. Not for the first time, Ronon felt sullied. He was certain that the thoughts McKay entertained were those he saw in his own mind. Images that were now branded into him. Unpleasant flashes of fear, of loneliness, of anger and grief. This would not do, he should say something.

"McKay."

"What?"

"You shouldn't go in the squish."

"What now? You taking over Sheppard's slack? You want to yell and belittle my work? Go ahead, I'm all ears. You tell me how absolutely insignificant I am, how I can't take care of myself. A waste of space! Is that what you want to say? You'd like me off these missions wouldn't you? I'm just an annoying bastard, that what's you all think isn't it? That's what everybody always think!" As he said the word, he heard the many voices in his head, those that had told him such things at some point in time. His parents, his teachers, his friends, colleagues and so many people who just didn't get it. Couldn't be bothered to even try.

"No. It's dangerous and if you get stuck in there again, I'm not going after you." Perhaps it would be better for Ronon to think carefully before he spoke with them, this had not been the best idea, had not helped at all.

"That's so nice of you to say! I'm glad to know I'm safe here! Wow, I feel so much better, thanks!" He rose and stomped away, stumbling as his feet sank slightly into the squish.

"McKay!" In one smooth motion, Ronon was up and following. Neither they nor the other half of the team had walked very far before the voice resounded throughout the environment.

"You are asked to reconvene at the point of sustenance. Do so immediately."

It took but a minute and all were standing around the trays.

"Position yourselves, back against the Pensey."

"What's the Pensey!"

There was a moment of silent after McKay's question.

"It is that which you refer to as the Squish."

"Oh."

"This isn't going to work for us." Not at all. Sheppard was not allowing his team in there ever again, was certainly not willing to go back either!

"We are peaceful explorers, we mean you no harm. If we could open dialogue between our people and –"

The squish suddenly moulded itself to Rodney's left foot and he began to scream, his hand going to his head, fingers digging into his scalp, nails scratching. He screamed in a long, loud, horribly painful way. No words, just a howling that came from the gut.

"Ok! Stop! Stop! You've made your point, we're going back in! There's no need for this!"

As suddenly as it had started, the yelling stopped and McKay collapsed to the ground, tearful eyes closing.

"Position yourselves, back against the Pensey."

Sheppard was kneeling by Rodney's side. "McKay. Hey, you alright?"

Eyelids slid up to reveal blue, bloodshot eyes. "Yeah…" He attempted to sit up. "Ok, maybe not. That hurt…a lot."

"Looked like it."

Teyla and Ronon looked on worriedly as Sheppard examined McKay for injuries. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No...it was my head. Like, some giant jackhammer. Mostly gone now…usual headache left."

The voice interrupted any answer that might've come forth. "Position yourselves!"

Sheppard slid an arm around McKay's torso and helped him up. Groaning, they managed to get themselves against the squish, Teyla and Ronon offering support on the other side. It took but a moment and the squish enveloped them. Only Ronon was left, stepping away from the wall, watching as their eyes closed. They seemed to fall asleep, Teyla and Sheppard's arms still around McKay, holding him up until the last moment. Frozen in time.

He couldn't help the shiver of excitement that ran up his spine as images appeared and though he was pulled in by them, oblivious to the world, he gave one last thought of regret. _I should've told them, we need to get away from here. This isn't right._


	4. Chapter 4

As always, thanks to the magnificient Angela, because she so totally is!

**Notes:** Some dialogue lifted from various episodes, Condemned being the latest one. Oh, and loving the comments, keep 'em coming :)

**Nature**

"_Don't talk to me about screwed!"_

_-------_

"_Kolyaaaaaaaaa!"_

_-------_

"_Oh God, no no no no no. no please, please don't! Oh God! Stop! Stop! It's the grounding rods! We're going to use them to power the shield! That's all! That's all! Stop!"_

_-------_

"_Major!"_

"_McKay!"_

"_Ok now what!_

"_Well reload!"_

_-------_

"_I do not understand."_

"_It was very easy to miss. In fact, I couldn't even make the kind of comparison necessary to isolate the specific strand. We needed Wraith cells, which we eventually got, but then we need a full mapping of the genetic code contained within those cells, which wasn't even fifty percent complete..."_

"_Please! Tell me."_

"_You have some Wraith DNA in your genetic make-up."_

_-------_

Ronon sat, avidly soaking in life on Atlantis before he came, the missions of the team before he joined. It was incredible they were still alive! So many things he had only heard about, he now was privileged enough to see and experience alongside them. Hour after hour, he kept his eyes on the screen, the thought of turning away, allowing them their secrets and privacy long gone. The images had evolved. No longer coming from one mind, they melded and meshed, going from one perspective to the next in a seamless second. One event seen through three different pairs of eyes. Different perceptions of the same event, colours changing as they did. Sometimes, one was angry and coated everything with a deep blood red whilst the other was afraid and turned everything to black.

He remembered the next one and was amazed at sharing it with them in this manner. He had hated that man and so had Sheppard. When McKay's thoughts came, everything coated itself in black but it came with a line of yellow that was quite intriguing. Teyla was anger, pure and simple. He knew he had been too, wanting to kill that man for what he proposed. What colour would his thoughts have produced?

"_Choose."_

"_Choose what?"_

"_Which one of them dies first. Do it."_

"_I can't do that."_

"_Well then I'll choose for you. Either way, one of them dies unless you change your mind about fixing that ship."_

He saw everything and wanted more. When the squish released them, he was sorry for a moment before guilt overpowered any other emotion. What had he been doing! Not looking for a way out, not attempting to find the voice's owner. Sitting like a voyeur, spying on their lives, on their thoughts and feelings! What would they think if they knew! He moved to assist as the wall regurgitated his team.

McKay fell to the ground, clutching his head. The last image had been one he shared with Sheppard, down in the depths of the ocean. Fear had coated it from both sides. He had been sitting in the back of the Jumper while Sheppard brought them to the surface. Zelenka had gone between one and the other. Sheppard had talked more than he usually did, a non-stop babbling better suited to McKay.

"Ow. Shit, that hurts!"

Ronon was at his side, helping him to sit up. Sheppard sat silently and Teyla forced herself to move despite the flashes of memories chasing one another through her mind. Loss and fear and fear and loss, running around her in her head. Violence, blood, death calling out to her from the merry-go-round of life experiences. She kneeled beside Rodney who held his head in his hand, pressing in as if he could push the pain away.

"Are you in pain?"

"Yes, goddamnit all to hell, I'm in pain! How long have we been in there?"

He looked at Ronon who was, quite obviously, the most alert of them all. Wide, annoyed and blue were, at the present time, the eyes that Ronon had seen filled with fear, hate, tears, curiosity, impatience and hurt. Blue eyes he'd seen widen for all kinds of reason, both in life and on the screen. It was a flood of memories and most were not his! A frown marred McKay's face. He expected an answer.

"Don't know. Can't tell the time."

"Right." He looked around, but his eyes fell on Ronon again. "How come you're not on the floor, or at the very least a little unstable? You're Super Macho 'I feel no pain' deal can't stretch that far, right? Even Teyla's winded and Sheppard looks like death warmed over."

"Hey!" The embodiment of death was not happy with the comparison.

"I wasn't in there."

"What! How come?" That was unfair, wasn't it? No sense dwelling on it, as least the Mighty Warrior had been out to protect their hides!

Helping Teyla to a sitting position, Ronon was denied his preferred means of communication, the shrug, and had to speak. "I don't know."

Rodney was dwelling. "That's not fair! How come you get to be out here?" He swept his arm out, encompassing their not so impressive environment. He wrinkled his nose at what he saw and gave a little disgusted sniff. "Yeah, well, I guess it's not that bad in there, not like anything happens."

Shortly after, food materialised, as it had the first time. They sat and ate in silence. Sheppard ate a little bit of everything except the red, overly juicy fruit and Ronon knew why. He had loved those, whilst trapped in the little house with five copies of himself, waiting, wanting to die. Ronon knew what had happened to him and it made him even gladder that he had killed the woman who would put his friend through such an ordeal.

Once they had finished, the trays disappeared but the voice did not speak. They sat in oppressive silence until McKay broke it.

"What happens to us?"

They looked at him incredulously but his eyes were fixed to the ground. When he received no answer, he raised his head and gazed at Ronon. "When we're in there, what happens?"

Teyla and Sheppard were watching him too and Ronon did not know what to say. If he told them the truth, they would want to stop it and he couldn't let it happen. He needed more, wanted more. Wanted to see everything! No, oh no, he would not jeopardise their lives so he could spy on them! However, he was not ready to tell them, didn't know what he could say to allow for his earlier silence. He should've told them right away, it was too late now.

"Nothing much…you just sleep."

"Nothing. There's no light or significant power increase or…"

"I haven't seen anything. Can't see power."

"Well, next time, you should take the scanner and verify. It must be doing something and I for one would really like to know. It could be slowly killing us, rotting us from the inside or something!"

"McKay!" Sheppard was disgusted by the idea, but would not pass up the chance for a one-up on the scientist. "I thought you said it wasn't dangerous?"

"There's a big difference between scientific experimenting in a controlled environment and living in Jell-O!" His argument was weak by his chin lifted in belligerence.

"Oh, is that what is it? A controlled environment?"

"I'm conscious, aren't I! Then, I control my environment!"

Sheppard thought about arguing, but if it made the scientist feel better to believe he controlled his environment, he was not going to disagree and alarm him by appearing anything but confident. "Yeah, ok…point."

Ronon watched Rodney smile smugly and appreciated Sheppard's adroit handling of the man. "I'll check, next time."

Silence, again.

Sheppard could not handle it, he needed to do something. "We should get some rest. I'll take first watch."

That seemed to jolt them out of their quiet contemplations. "Anybody have Tylenol in their vests? This headache is killing me!"

When none was found, McKay sighed and went off to one side. Emptying his pockets, he rolled the vest and gently laid his head upon it. One arm went over his eyes. He listened for the others to settle down, concentrating on his environment so he would not have to face what lurked inside his mind. Rare were the times when he disliked his brain, but he did at that moment. Stupid brain, couldn't even hold on to his repression! I don't want to remember! Take It away! It was working fine before, why are you playing games with me, on a mission no less.

He thought it was evident that it had something to do with the squish and the many hours they had spent there, but Ronon hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. Sure, there was the power increase which was quite intriguing, but he couldn't check it out with Lieutenant Colonel Dictator of the World there. Maybe during Teyla's watch. She hadn't said anything about it and the chances of side effects were dwindling as time passed. It was everywhere; it would've affected them by now. His mind offered a flash of his father's angry face. Ok, brain, stop it! Do something useful, like, solve those Millennium Problems and prove to everyone how truly, amazingly intelligent you are. Then, Dad can eat his damn suit and tie for being such an ignorant bastard! He'd sure like me then, wouldn't he, if I won millions upon millions and everybody sang my praises. Everyone would recognise that I'm…no, that is not an accepted subject. Millennium Problems. Right.

Teyla watched Rodney settle in his spot as if he had reached a decision of some kind. So, final. She wondered if it was that simple for him; would he sleep if he simply decided to do so? Perhaps, it would be a useful skill, one that she wished upon herself tonight. It had been years since she had thought of her family in any unpleasant way. She usually recalled their happier times. Village festivities, family suppers, hunting trips. No, the thoughts that plagued her tonight involved too much death, too little happiness. Where had they come from? Was the Colonel's mood descending upon them all? Possibly, stranger things had been known to happen. Mood affecting mood, it was a likely possibility. Yes, even Ronon seemed out of sorts. She wondered if he remembered unpleasantries as well.

Of course he did. He ran the memories through his mind, trying to see more than what was there, trying to understand.

Sheppard stalked the area they occupied with slow, measure step. _Left._ All the people he had lost. _Right._ All the people that had lost him. _Left._ Mom. _Right._ That bastard father. _Left._ Grodin. _Right._ Ford. _Left._ Andy. _Right._ Isabelle. It wouldn't stop so he walked and watched his team. Their names weren't on that list. They had come close numerous times, but they weren't. Ok, John, forget about all those that came before. The only important thing right now is them. You're on a mission, you're on watch and there's something rotten in the state of Jell-O. Concentrate.

_Left._ Teyla. _Right._ Rodney. _Left._ Ronon. _Right._ Teyla. _Left._ Rodney. _Right._ Ronon. His eyes rested on the body that wore the name and he managed to forget all the memories that wanted to surface.


	5. Chapter 5

Wheeeeee Angela!

**Notes: **Sorry about the delay, College is eating my brain and will to live (we ran out of cereals). Thanks so much for the comments, you guys crack me up!

**Long**

This time it was different. Memories were not random. They bathed in one essence, had one connecting factor.

Sheppard's left him alone. Through death or human callousness, he was one man against the world. His mother's funeral, his father's refusal, a friend's death, a woman's betrayal. A portal took him for six long months, a Celebrant sent him to Oblee, to severance. Alone, always alone.

Teyla's were tinted with blood. Death, carnage, violence. That is was she saw. She ran through a cruel world, killing and mourning. Often, an image of herself as Wraith flashed on the screen, coming between other memories, everywhere all at once. It took over everything, tainting her life.

McKay's were failures and the subsequent rejections. Theories were refuted, faces sneered, people died, fingers pointed, problems went unsolved, cruel laughs echoed. Loveless and flawed, he stumbled through different times, different places, growing bitter and cold. A young woman appeared every few cycle, stroking his longer hair, whispering unintelligible words filled with nothing but tenderness, but she was quickly replaced with an older woman, screaming at the top of her lungs that he, Rodney McKay, was the cause of all her misery, of **everyone's** misery.

Ronon watched as the same images came, over and over. From childhood to a time so very near the present, he experienced the things they dreaded the most. He resolved to tell them what he had seen. If only to prove to Sheppard he was not alone, he didn't need to be. Teyla needed to know violence was not a part of her but a part of life. All their lives were tainted with the blood they had spilled, the blood they had seen flowing, but it was not of her, did not live within her. She was not a Wraith, not like them. McKay deserved acceptance, friendship and care. Despite his many flaws, he was a good man and the new information Ronon had garnered changed his perception. Rodney had been shaped into the man he was and no one had ever informed him that there was no need for it. Protecting himself with extreme obnoxiousness was not necessary amongst friends.

Vulnerability, it began and ended within it. They were all afraid to be fallible. He stood and moved close to the wall. He watched them, huddled together in gelatine. An amusing portrait if taken at face value, but he was not seeing them there. He saw them in his mind, as they were in life, as they projected themselves. Strong. Invulnerable.

He smiled. He had seen that invulnerability and how it had been a sham. It had come with a yellow tinge he'd come to associate with McKay's reminiscing and he had finally remembered. Yellow-bellied, an Earth euphemism for cowardice. McKay would never be truly invulnerable; always plagued by his foolish claims of cowardice, of a substandard nature.

Ronon was relieved; he could control his need to see more now that the memories were always the same. He had memorised them. Knew what would be said, what would be done. He only had to wait for them to come out. He would tell them what had happened. He would! They needed to know the things he had seen, needed to be told of their erroneous beliefs.

In the end, he was forced to inform others of his newly acquired knowledge.

As he watched Sheppard yell at the top of his lungs for someone to give him a fucking break, his face a mask of fury and sorrow, Ronon heard a loud lurching sound. Turning, he saw the wall opposite his team spread sideways, separating to form a dark corridor. He stepped to the side of the opening, weapon drawn. A girlish giggle came from the depth of the squish.

"Don't be ridiculous you murderous brute, I can see you!"

He knew the voice and held his weapon high. "Let me see you."

"You will not shoot me, will you? This is a new dress and it would be dreadfully inconvenient to have it dirtied so soon."

"I won't shoot you if you don't give me a reason."

"One can only try. I will now step forward and exit this corridor of horrid substance."

Ronon stood at the ready. When she appeared, he did not show any surprise. She smiled brightly.

"Hello!"

"Why are you here?"

She ignored him and walked over to the opposite wall that held Sheppard, McKay and Teyla. "They do look dreadful, don't they? I truly hate being here, it carries a scent that I simply cannot stomach." She turned back to Ronon. "They tell me you have been quite at ease, but of course a mere odour is nothing for a man such as you, is it not?"

Ronon held his weapon steadfastly though it felt heavier in his hand. It was a softer, more feminine copy of Sheppard that looked at him, and it felt wrong to take aim at such a familiar face, as it had the previous times.

"What do you want?"

"I want what everybody wants! Power, knowledge, riches beyond your wildest dreams and true love. What is it that you want?"

"Don't toy with me! Tell me why you're here and I won't kill you where you stand."

"Oh, Mister Dex, please." She spread her arms, palms up. "We are not enemies! I am simply here to apprise you of the situation. You are growing concerned, not such a good little subject after all. Therefore, I have been sent to retrieve you."

Ronon stared at her for a moment, trying to make sense of the seemingly incoherent ramblings she had spoken. It wasn't to be. "What?"

"Ummmm, yes, you warrior types, always a little slow aren't you? Oblee did tell me he was remarkably obtuse." She pointed at Sheppard's still form.

"What do you want?"

She spoke slowly, enunciating exaggeratedly. "I am here. To take you. Away."

He glared at her and stepped forward to take a stance in front of his team, forcing her to take a step back. "Away?"

She frowned and sighed, as if his question was a great annoyance. "To your home. You do not respond to the Pensey. You seem mesmerized by what it has been able to show you, but you are of no use here if all you will do is watch. Eavesdropping is so unbecoming on one who calls himself a friend."

Ronon was about to speak, to tell her he would not leave without them, but she held up a hand to stop him. It was unfortunate that he had been so beautifully trained that even after years out of the military, he instinctively followed orders.

"There is nothing you can do. You are surrounded by the Pensey. If you attempt anything, they will be dead before you reach the furthest border of this area. You have seen what pain it is capable of inflicting and believe me, you have seen but a fraction."

"Why are you keeping them?"

"For the moment let us pretend that _I_ am keeping them to advance my position in life. It is of an utterly selfish nature, I must admit, but you have joined me on that road, have you not? You have been enjoying the theatre that has been provided for you, but may not continue to do so."

A voice echoed, as before, no longer enticing, but cold and devoid of intonations. "Lady Celebrant, put an end to your conversation and remove Mister Dex."

She raised her hazel eyes to the ceiling. "Of course!" She shrugged and rested her gaze on him. "Now come with me or you will watch them die…or shall I say, hear them die." She put the tip of her finger a fraction of an inch away from the squish over McKay's face. "The pain he experienced was of much lesser intensity than what could come to them. You want them to be well, come, like the good little soldier boy that you are." She raised an eyebrow, in an incredibly Sheppard-like way, and exited through the corridor that had formed. He placed a hand to the squish, near McKay's head. It moved minutely and McKay's eyes opened wide. He didn't blink, didn't move, only his eyes moved from left to right, never to settle on a sight. Ronon took a step back and the blue eyes closed as the squish release its obvious painful hold. He stood, watching them, unwilling, unable to leave. He threw himself at the squish, plunged his hand deep within its fold and pulled at Teyla. Their eyes locked as he felt her pain. His head seemed on the verge of imploding. He pulled harder and she followed. The pain receded the moment she opened her eyes.

"Ronon?"

"We're going home."

Mira was standing close, too close, and when she spoke she sounded utterly appalled. "Oh no, that is impossible! She has to stay! You're the only one who gets to go."

"I'm not going anywhere without them." He turned to fetch Sheppard and McKay but the pain came back, taking both Teyla and him. They fell to their knees, clutching their heads and screaming, howling like wounded beasts. Had it been only him, he would've attempted to pull at least one of them out, but Teyla had sounded distraught, so much so he did not recognise the tone she had used. It was desperate, a plea for mercy. She was on her knees, her hands holding her head, her face a grimace of pain, not only physical. It was deeper.

"Teyla?" He crouched next to her and took hold of her hands, drawing them away from her face.

"I am fine. It has receded now."

He eyed her dubiously but had confidence in her abilities. She could move on, not dwell on what was plaguing her mind. He turned to Mira, who stood, arms crossed, tapping her foot in displeasure.

"I'm not leaving without them."

"Oh yes you are!"

He drew his weapon. "I'm not."

The voice came again, louder this time, a far cry from the soothing tones he had first heard. "Take her and go. We shall keep the others. They are best suited for our purpose. Leave!"

Ronon was about to counter their order but Teyla rose to her feet, placing a hand on his arm. "We are powerless Ronon. The Colonel would order us to leave. They would want it this way."

He was surprised, this was unlike her. She pressed her thumb on his arm, deeper, the flesh giving way. Their eyes locked and he saw her resolve. They would come back, they would not abandon Sheppard and McKay. They had resources and they knew who kept them. They knew the Lady Celebrant…and they knew Lokas. The old man had been incredibly helpful in returning Sheppard to them once, perhaps fortune would smile upon them again. He nodded minutely and turned to Mira, his scowl firmly in place.

"Come along now!" She joyfully beckoned to them and he had no choice but to follow. He stared at the screen one last time. He frowned. That had never happened. He knew it hadn't, for Lieutenant Ford and himself had never been in Atlantis together, even less on a mission. Yet there they were, standing by the gate in preparation for departure. Something had changed. These were not memories, they simply couldn't be! Mira's voice floated over to him and he resolved to follow her, keeping close to Teyla whose eyes were on the screen, a puzzled frown ruffling her brow. He turned and heard Sheppard's voice advising McKay to keep his mouth shut or he would be left behind on the planet, hopefully never to be heard again.

The image presented too many incongruities. It was a falsehood. He wondered if some of the memories he'd seen had been as well.

He continued wondering as they moved through the corridor that split the squish in two parts of equally unappealing gelatinous walls, following the Lady Celebrant. She was humming to herself, quite happy with her task. They walked for quite some time and Ronon was contemplating asking Teyla about her memories, if only to break the monotony of the trek, when they reached a dead end.

Mira plunged her hand in the squish, frowning. She moved, left to right, up and down, her forearm deeply ensconced. With a "ah ha!" she turned to Ronon.

"Come, contact your world."

Ronon stared, unprepared to join her where she stood. She huffed impatiently. "Come! You must press the symbol! The device is here!"

He looked to Teyla for indications of her thoughts. She nodded, an ever-present frown marring her features. He walked up to the wall and the Lady Celebrant guided his hand so it rested next to hers. He could feel the outline of the DHD and felt the circular device for the correct symbols, pressing them but not hearing the telltale sounds of locking chevrons. It was only when he removed his hand that he was certain the gate had dialled. Mira pulled him away from his position just as the vortex erupted from the squish, thus saving him from certain death through demolecularisation. His mind supplied a picture of McKay, in all his sarcastic glory, informing Sheppard that the cockpit was _regrettably_ demolecularised and he couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. They had gotten out of that situation, surely this would be no different. They were not in a race against time nor, he suspected, against death. It was his firm belief that prisoners were not held without questioning for the simple pleasure of it. Of course, questioning was unnecessary when you could pull information directly from the mind of your captives.

"Off you go! Back home!" Mira was beaming, making shooing motions towards the squish. Teyla and Ronon eyed her doubtfully.

She rolled her eyes. She was certainly not the most patient Celebrant. "Walk through, it will not harm you! You saw just as well as I, the gate is a mere step away from where we stand. Go on." She was pushing Teyla towards the squish.

Ronon realised the demolecularisation threat was still pending. "Stop! Need the –"he pulled the GDO from his coat, thankful it had not been removed. He inputted his IDC and nodded. Teyla waited at the very edge of the wall. He came to join her and they walked through the squish. His tension eased as he felt the squishy pull lessen when the event horizon took over. Familiar. Good. Home.


	6. Chapter 6

I offer an unimaginative thanking sequence to you Angela and all the best to your ailing computer!

**Notes:** Thanks for the comments you guys, they're still cracking me up! I'd like to apologise to Jell-O for the bad rep I've accidentally given it.

**Distance**

"What do you mean, you're going?" Rodney's stomach twists further, he wrings his hands and his heart skips a few beats.

Teyla shrugs, as if she is extremely unconcerned by the question, as if she does not care about the outcome of this mission. "It is you they wish to keep, Rodney. We must allow them to do so, for the good of Atlantis. You said so yourself, they are quite an evolved people, they could easily be a threat."

His blue eyes are wide and filled with disbelief. Sheppard supposes he might've looked the same if he wasn't so proficient in the calm and collected façade. Surely, he's misunderstanding Teyla, she would never go along with what the…the…these people want! They're not giving them Rodney!

"You wouldn't want to hand them Atlantis, would ya Doc?" Ford, in all his innocent glory, smiles encouragingly.

Rodney looks unsure but regains control of himself easily. "Ha ha. Very funny. Yes, let's gang up on the one who's under threat of lifelong slavery! Thank you! That's too kind, really. Can we please get on with devising a plan to get home so I don't have to play house with the Lipsticks."

"Lopstack," Teyla corrects automatically. Stepping forward brings her in Rodney's personal space. She lays a hand on his arm. "We are sorry Rodney. You must understand this is for Atlantis."

"But…"

Ronon glares at him. "You want us to put the city in danger for you? One life for all the ones back home?"

Uncertainty comes to stay on the scientist's features. "No, but you can't just sell me to the highest bidder!"

"We are not selling you. We are merely attempting to keep Atlantis safe, it is a trade. You must see this is the better course of action? You cannot wish to put any additional threats on the head of the people of Atlantis to save your own. As Ronon said, you are in no danger of death. They wish you to help."

"Yeah McKay, they realise how smart you are. Thought you'd like that. Plus, they're pretty advanced. You might find the scientists are smarter here! That'd be good, right? Smart people fanning over you!" Ford's attempt is pitiful at best, like a used automobile dealer trying to sell a Fiat.

Sheppard thinks he's lost his mind. "What are you guys talking about! We're not going along with this!" The grateful look he receives from his, _their_, genius sets him on edge. How can Rodney believe them! They wouldn't leave him! He's not the most pleasant of individual but he's on the team! He's Rodney, for God's sake! They're not leaving him!

"We have no other choice Colonel, you know it as well as I do."

"Apparently I don't, Teyla!" This farce is over, it's not even remotely funny. He moves to stand beside Rodney, hoping his proximity will reassure the man. So smart, yet so gullible, he'll believe anything.

"You can do what you want. I'm leaving. Only a coward would deny his duty to save his people. I don't travel with cowards." Ronon turns and ambles up the path leading to the gate.

Ford looks at him, turns an apologetic gaze to Sheppard and Rodney. "Nothing against you Doc, you're an okay guy, this is for Atlantis." He turns and follows the departing leather-clad man.

"We're not done here people!" Sheppard frowns as both men ignore him.

Teyla smiles, comes closer, evidently intent on the Athosian farewell. Rodney complies, bending his head, taking hold of her upper arm while her hands settle on his shoulders. "All will be well. Now, you are truly a hero and will be spoken of with admiration." She releases him and looks at John, eyebrow arched. "Colonel, shall we proceed to the gate."

He can't speak, doesn't know what to say. He can't believe they're really abandoning Rodney! This isn't a joke, he'd be in on it if it was. Hell, he'd probably be a willing participant, but not like this, not this long. He looks over to where Rodney is standing, his shoulders drooped, a crestfallen look upon his face. Finally, he finds the perfect word, one he's known for a very many years, one he's had to use frequently since adding the man of the hour to his team. "No."

"Colonel, we must not get separated, you know where it can lead. Best to follow, Ronon's nearly reached the gate."

"Not get separated! What about Rodney? You think it'll be separate enough?"

"He is an acceptable casualty." She looks at him with something akin to pity. "Doctor Zelenka is as capable and immensely more pleasant. There will be no need to ground the team if that is what is worrying you."

He knew it! Rodney knew it! It's always an act! These guys were really good! He was completely fooled, thinking they cared, they understood, they liked him! God, he'd been such a fool! His eyes trail to Sheppard, who stands in appalled fury. Maybe it'll be alright, maybe they won't force him to stay here.

Teyla's hand goes to her radio. "Yes Ronon?" She listens to words they cannot hear but can guess, judging by her response. "I am on my way." She eyes the Colonel who frowns at her. "If you wish to remain I will not dispute that right but we will not come back for you. It is for Atlantis, your people and my own. Surely, you understand?"

"What you don't seem to understand is that Rodney's my people, he's our people!" How had he misjudged his team so much?

She nods, a mocking smile upon her lips. "Yes, you do have a certain fondness for him…" She breathes in deeply. "I regret this parting, but I must go and if you are unwilling to see reason, then I must go without you both." She moves to offer the Athosian greeting to him but he takes a step back.

His face is cold and unforgiving. He doesn't understand. Why are they fleeing before the Lopstack threat! He found it completely ridiculous for the people of this world to ask for Rodney in trade. He informed them that they did not trade human beings, as a policy. That is when the big guns came out, in the hands of the big men. It was Rodney or Atlantis, Atlantis or Rodney. To him, there was no thought involved, there no Atlantis without Rodney; he refused. Things had gone high up on the problematic scale; the Lopstack asked for him to be removed from the proceeding. He sat outside on the stone steps and the first thing he knew, they were walking to the gate, a contingent of big men and guns following closely. He missed the part where his team, whom he trusted, turned on one of their own. "You better go, they'll be waiting."

She seems shocked for a moment. "Yes…" but she regains her composure quickly. "Be well, John." She turns and walks away.

Rodney couldn't disregard the well wishes she offered only to Sheppard. She must think he doesn't deserve them. Of course, they've basically just sold him into slavery; therefore, it would be unkind to wish him well. The two men watch her walk up the hill, toward the Stargate.

Rodney turns to his last remaining teammate. "You should go too…no sense in two of us being here. Now that I've saved Atlantis, in a very easy and restful way, it'll still need you."

"No it won't."

"You're CO, Sheppard. Team leader, mutant overeager show off gene man. It needs you."

"Military's full of potential COs. Lorne can take over the team, he's good and loads of people have the gene now."

"Fine, you're the best pilot there is."

"Yeah, that's true, but the Air Force's full of pilot. Military's really resourceful you know, lots of people join up."

"Sheppard!"

"Rodney?"

"Don't do this. There's no sense in both of us being stuck here!"

"We're not stuck here, we'll find a way."

"Sheppard, seriously, Atlantis needs you!"

"No. Atlantis needs us."

"You're the epitome of idiocy. Now's not the time to be noble. Go home."

"No."

"Do you always have to be so contrary?"

"Bit rich coming from you –"

"I don't want you here! It'll be worst to know you're here because of me than be left behind, ok? Can't you just go! I don't want to be responsible for you!"

"I can take care of myself, but thank you. Your concern for my well-being is overwhelming. I think…" he breathes in deeply, "I think I might need a hug now." It's all he can do to prevent the smile from spreading.

"Oh shut up! First, you're pathetic. Second, you can't take care of yourself as was made evident by the incredible amount of time I had to come to your rescue and further proved by the fact that you are in the military which is the next best thing to living in a dictatorship. Third, this isn't about you. You'll guilt trip me, we'll fight, hate each other and both be stuck here and I'll have to murder you in your sleep because you'll have driven me to the edge of insanity!"

"Funny, I thought you were there already, teetering dangerously." He smirks at Rodney's scowl. "We're going to make it home."

"No, we're not, Dorothy! I know what it is; your hair's a natural shield to common sense, you're forced to live in a world where only absurdities exist! That explains everything!" He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. "If you don't go now, we'll both be stuck together, grow old and be miserable! Frankly, I don't really want to envision the rest of my life with you!"

"Come on, Tin Man. Friends don't leave friends behind. Get it through your thick, follicle-deprived head and it might make it to your make-believe heart!"

The group of men that had followed them move inexorably closer. "Looks like your window of opportunity is shrinking." Rodney thinks he'll give good ol' honesty a try. "Please. Go home. I really don't want to be responsible for this, for your being here. You're a friend, act like one. Don't make me take a guilt trip. It's nice that you're offering, but I can't let you do this. Go home…"

"Sorry, better you on the guilt train than me. Just imagine what Elizabeth will do to me if I show up without you?"

"Oh, I get it, you just want to avoid the Wrath of Weir." He understands. He probably would not have left either, though he doesn't believe he is as brave and selfless as Sheppard. It warms him to the core to have him stay, to know that there is someone who cares that much. He won't be able to change the man's mind, it's already too late; the army that accompanied them to the bottom of the hill is a few metres behind. The people here were polite, for slave-loving, double-crossing, lying, threatening bastards. He gives it one more try. "If you make a run for it, you can get to the gate before the two neurones they share amongst themselves find each other."

"Yeah, I could." Sheppard spreads his feet further apart and crosses his arms, clearly indicating that he will not be swayed. He watches the wormhole blink out of existence. They have truly left. At least Rodney's here, they'll be back home for diner. He would hope they had a plan, that it was all meant to confound the Lopstack, but if it was, wouldn't he know? He was away from his team for so long after they'd stumbled upon the Celebrant on Atle, maybe they don't regard him as the leader anymore. Maybe he's just tagging along, not to be involved, not to be trusted. Teyla could've told him, why didn't she say…the Athosian farewell! Oh, he could kick himself! It would've been the perfect opportunity to communicate any type of rescue they might've considered. He missed it.

"Yeah…you could."

The men are upon them, and the smallest one speaks. "Doctor McKay, please follow us to the Square." He eyes Sheppard appraisingly. "Will you be coming as well?"

"Yep, going to follow the Doctor here." He moves closer to McKay, an overprotective gesture that will accomplish nothing, if not unite them. That unity will in turn accomplish nothing, but he feels better for it.

"Very well. We will have to relocate your living space Doctor, but it should not be a problem. You will, of course, be residing together." Turning to a younger man, he instructs him to run ahead and have the necessary arrangement made.

For slave traders, they are quite civilized and Rodney feels the slightest bit better. This might not be as bad as he imagined, and Sheppard is here, isn't he? It can't be that bad…


	7. Chapter 7

I have the greatest beta-reader in the world. So there!

**Notes: **Thanks, you guys, for the wonderful comments. I'm very eager to know what you'll think of this chapter. It was hard to write, the characters involved aren't usually found in this type of discussion...well, fiction eh?

**Dual**

"Teyla! Wait!"

"Ronon, it is good to see you."

"How're people on the mainland?"

"They are doing quite well. Nissa is with child."

"She's joined with Lyvan?"

"She is. Lyvan took the news quite well, after he had regained consciousness."

They walked down the halls sharing news of the Athosian and of Atlantis, Teyla waiting to hear what had made Ronon chase after her. She had not to wait long.

"So, huh, you want to train? Still a few hours before Lokas comes." They had found him after three days of search. He had been away from his home for the last week and been quite shifty about it. All of which was of no consequence. He had agreed to help, had offered to come to them. The day was today. Ronon waited in equal parts eager anticipation and trepidation. Eager, because if someone would know of Mira's machination, and resultantly of Sheppard and McKay's whereabouts, it would be him. Trepidation because he had killed the man's sister. He reasoned that he had been allowed to leave, as had Sheppard. Obviously, Lokas did not hold a grudge.

"I would. Shall I meet you in the training room in ten minutes?"

"Yeah, see you there."

-------

The twack of the stick on her arm was not altogether unpleasant. He smiled smugly as she took position, watching him with a frown. They had not trained since their return from the squish, which was quite unusual for them, but Teyla had requested time to visit her people. He had not accompanied her, though she had offered. They both needed time to reflect on what had happened, to find some semblance of peace in troubled minds.

She was quieter than she had ever been, even slightly distracted, a sure sign that something was wrong. Ronon believed that the squish had brought this change. Perhaps she was unable to forget the numerous memories that had floated up to the surface. He refused to think of what would happen if he was ever made to relive past times. He had no doubt that is what it had felt like for her, for them. Whilst he had sat and watched, they had been caught in the past, the trauma of moments long gone.

They were alone in the training room and he believed it would be a good time to breach the subject. He had to be honest with her, could not keep his burden to himself nor force her to carry hers. He would help, if she needed him to, wanted him to.

He dodged a frontal attack and made his move. "I saw it."

She smiled slightly. "It is obvious you saw it, for had you not I would have placed a spectacular hit."

"I mean, on that planet. What the squish made you see…I saw it."

That stopped her. Her arm continued its elegant movement, the stick gliding through the air, but the other arm was not protecting her, it hung limply at her side. "What?"

"I saw it…what it made you see or relive. It was displayed."

Her eyes narrowed, her mouth thinned into a line. "What did you see?"

He wrestled with the idea of telling her; she would only be uncomfortable, but this was Teyla. After what he had done, she deserved his honesty. He was not a devious liar, an eavesdropping friend! "Everything you remember. It's there, isn't it? They've come back, the things you've had to forget." He moved to her, but did not reach out. He could only imagine what she was feeling and hoped she would see he had meant no harm, but wasn't sure what that would change. He wouldn't want to be bared like she had been, though there was no danger of his betrayal, no reason to feel adverse to the fact. He had gained new respect for his teammates and could now understand them better, work with them better, knowledgeable of their inner workings.

She moved to sit on the bench by the window. Silence filled the room and Ronon worried that perhaps this had been a bad course of action. No, it couldn't be. This was truth, honesty and reaching to help a friend. If she remembered all those things as clearly as he did, she could not be in a good place.

"They have…"

An overture had been made so he moved to sit beside her. "Yeah."

"I do not understand from where they have sprung."

"The squish. It made you three see things. Before we left, you saw it, images in midair?"

"Yes…"she frowns, "but you were there, as well as Lieutenant Ford. Those could not have sprung from John or Rodney."

She had used their proper names and it encouraged Ronon. They had grown close enough to warrant it, even when speaking of them, especially when speaking of them. They were John and Rodney now. Of course, to him, they were most regularly Sheppard and McKay, but he suspected it was a man's prerogative to use not the personal name, the smallest and most vulnerable. If Sheppard was Sheppard, he was strong, he was in charge, he was a killer, but when he became John, he was laughter, lazy evenings and concerned eyes. The same could be said for McKay. Irritating, boisterous, unsociable McKay; caring, passionate, and courageous Rodney.

"I don't think they did, but the idea is the same. That's what I saw."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

"I am sorry…I must go." She leapt up, as graceful as ever, and exited the room, leaving her sticks and her workout bag behind. He let her leave, giving her time. He would go see her after he had deposited his own effects in his quarters and gone to the control room to see if there were any words from Lokas.

Teyla had hurried to her quarters, seeking solitude. She was shocked. Ronon knew, had seen everything, yet she could not hold him responsible, she could not blame him and wished she had not run away. He had been so solicitous. She could console herself with the fact that he had not seen her most cherished memories. The ones she held onto, the ones she wanted, she prized above all else. Laughter and games, love and life. Those were a private sanctum, hers. She would not have taken kindly to sharing them.

She sat on the edge of her bed, slouching uncharacteristically and vainly attempted to push away the different memories that were striving to overtake her, a plaguing presence, ready to pounce on her conscious mind and spill over in a deluge of wet, salty drops. They had left John and Rodney there, to be taken over by so much more. For her, it had only been a day, two at the most and she was crippled, unable to focus, whispers of times long past keeping her attention. What would it be for them? Would the memories come to them, untiring in their persistence? Would they come from depths so obscure, they had never been revealed before?

No, what she had seen before…abandoning them, had not been a memory. She dreaded to think what was happening to them. What horrors they could subject themselves to. The whispers became insistent and she was no longer able to distract herself with guilt. She saw her sister, but not as she wished to remember her. She was bloodied, battered, terrified. Her father just the same. She saw only the blood and gore of her life, the hurt and despair. It would not do! She would not remember them so! She would honour their lives, recall the smiles and the love. She forced herself to reflect on the better part of her life and it pained her. It had never been a conscious effort before. The squish had ruined everything. She felt a hate for the Lady Celebrant rise, the need to destroy her as she had and still was destroying them. In the silence of her room, she spoke, spitefully, hatefully, and it felt good.

"Have you not done enough? Prey on others whom you can defeat. You will never take us! You will never draw us apart! We are stronger than a foolish girl who seeks power! I will not let you conquer me! I will not let you take us! I will not! I will see that you pay for your actions as Oblee has paid for hers! Ronon was right in taking her life! You do not deserve to walk the soil the Ancestors have giving you!"

She stopped, appalled. Vengeance and a thirst for blood had always been so easily controlled! She was lost! Her soul was tarnished and she could no longer turn to the people who had made her life beautiful, happy and light! What would she do? She was a lost soul! A lost soul…what was left of her? For her?

A knock came at the door. She did not answer, she did not want to see who was there, to present herself to anyone. The knock came again and it was joined by a voice, deep and rumbling.

"Teyla. Open the door."

She would not, she could not! She was tarnished, tainted, the blood in her veins as rotten as the one she had seen spilled or spilled herself!

"Open up. I'm not going away."

"Please do Ronon, I wish to be alone."

"You were, now I'm here. Open the door."

"There is no need for you to be here." She had moved to the door, she stood facing it, wanting to open it yet knowing she should not.

"Maybe not for you, but right now…" Ronon felt silent, unsure of how she would react to his thoughts.

She waited for him to complete his sentence.

He breathed in deeply and did. "You're the only one I have. Let me in."

He was right. They were not alone, though they might believe so. They had each other. They were two parts of a whole which could stand united against the universe. They had rid themselves of the Lady Celebrant and her cohort's nefarious influence before, they would do it again.

The door slid open and Ronon entered. She turned and sat on her bed, closer to the wall to make space for him. He deposited her bag on the floor by the door and followed.

He was the first to speak. "I'm sorry."

"There is no need for you to be."

"I know, but I am."

She accepted it. He had trespassed upon their privacy, through no wish of his own, and that would carry guilt.

"Not sorry enough not to tell you you're wrong."

She smiled tightly. "Wrong?"

"All that blood. It's not yours, not you."

She was surprised, how did he know? Ronon was one of the most perceptive man she knew outside her people, a sense developed by his years as a Runner no doubt, but even he could not have known of her earlier thoughts. "What do you mean?"

"There was some time where the same memories kept coming. I figured them to be the most important and…yours were full of…" he turned to her, watching her with a steady gaze. "It's not you. You're not blood and violence. It's not your life, but a part of it. It's a part of everyone's life here, you know that? Even the scientist…even McKay has blood in his life."

"Yes, but Rodney's blood was spilled in self-defence, to save his people. I have spilled more than he ever could. I have killed and enjoyed it."

"No. You have killed and enjoyed the outcome, keeping your people safe. Your blood is the same as McKay's and you have spilled more because that's what life is here. Don't you think I've spilled enough to fill a river or two? Don't you think Sheppard has spilled enough to do the same? I can't say I think it's me, and I don't think it's him either."

"No, no, it is not you, but we are all different people Ronon, with different experiences."

"We are, but we're also one and the same. The Wraith have made it that way."

She was about to protest but the klaxons filled the city. Their eyes locked as she raised her hand to her radio to learn that it was indeed Lokas.

He stood and offered her a hand in an unexpected show of gentleman manners. It was unnecessary but she accepted it, and if he pulled her too close when she stood, she would not have noticed. They exited the room, walking side by side, and made their way to the control room, where they hoped help stood.


	8. Chapter 8

As always Angela, your comments are insightful and priceless

**Valley**

The day started with John standing at the end of the row, back straight, eyes on the horizon, listening to an abrasive man making him relive his basic training via lots of yelling and a chaffing uniform.

He's the new guy and feels it; he gets the dirty looks and eventually the 'being picked last for training exercises' experience. Luckily, all the dreadful planets he has visited, filled with aggressive and untrusting populations, have increased his reflexes tenfold. He goes through many partners in the course of the day, but the last one –there is no way to describe it with even a modicum of correctness– kicks his ass from here to Timbuktu, and that is quite a way to go from this galaxy.

He understands he is being tested, that this is not training but threat evaluation. This man has no finesse, no true skills. He is massively, sun-blockingly large and fills all the space in the immediate vicinity. As much as he tries, John cannot quite evade each of his attacks, nor does he truly try. He doesn't want to show himself as skilled, doesn't want to be perceived as a real threat. Teyla has taught him well, he could do much against this man, or he could have, at first. He has been hit repeatedly in the same areas: the torso, the arms, the legs and the head, once, to name but a _few_. He is weakening; his legs are ready to give in and drop him where he stands, his ribs are beyond bruised, his left shoulder is slowly moving away from his torso…at least that is what it feels like. High threshold for pain? Not so much. Stupid proud streak a mile wide? Oh yeah, definitely.

Therefore, it is of no surprise to him that at the end of his first day as a SSA, slave for the safety of Atlantis as Rodney thinks is humorous in his twisted humongous mind, he is left in the middle of the field, battered and bruised, bloodied and muddied, getting thoroughly drenched by the heavy rain. What a miserable day! Even the Academy was never this harsh, he thinks. For a moment, he curses the day he was born, the day he decided to join the Air Force rather than rely on his inheritance for his education, the day he met a genius in bright orange fleece clothing. Ah yes, Rodney. He should get home.

Attempting to stand is not as successful as he might have envisioned, but he perseveres and eventually reaches his goal. He concentrates on putting one foot before the other, keeping upright and not vomiting his internal organs. So far so good!

"Ok, maybe…what? A hundred metres from here to the building? Twenty more to the room. A hundred and twenty metres, that's not so bad!" He encourages himself, under the amused gaze of the Lopstack in charge of…well…him; or possibly the stragglers, as he is abandoned at the door to the high-rise, again one of Rodney's lack of creativity, where another man watches his progress with a smirk. He did not take the stairs into account but now he must, as he is facing the long ascent. How many steps? He does not remember. Fifty, perhaps sixty. At number forty-five he wants to give up, but yelling for help is not an option, see width of proud streak for reference. Finally, finally, _finally_, he makes it to his door, their door. He hears noise coming from inside; Rodney is back.

"What happened to you!" Rodney takes in John's appearance and hurries to help him to his cot. John rests a vast portion of his weight on Rodney's frame, grateful for his sturdiness.

They walk the few steps that separate the door from his cot and he flops on his back, hitting his head against the metallic wall. "Son of a bitch!" John's hand comes up to stroke the back of his head.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry. You just…went boneless, a little. Are you ok?"

"Fine, can't even feel it."

"Oh…" Rodney looks confused. "I'm not sure if that's good or bad?"

"From where I'm definitely not standing, it's in the first column."

"Right." Rodney stands, wringing his hands, eyes roaming over John's filthy form. "Right…ok, yes." He seems to snap back into functioning mode and walks away, keeping a running commentary. "You might want to clean up? Yeah? I mean, all that mud? It can't be good and I won't be able to help you much if I can't see where you're hurt, right? Not that we have anything to work with here, but maybe…if you're getting mud into wounds?" He turns, eyes wide. "You're not wounded are you?" His hands dance across the air in a dismissive gesture. "Yes, yes, well of course you're wounded, but not flesh wounds kind of wounded, are you?"

"I don't think so. Not really, a few cuts and skin has definitely given in to the pressure in some spots, but nothing serious."

"Good, that's good, very good. That is, if you're telling the truth?"

John gives him the look, the one that puts fear in the hearts of military and scientists alike. It never works on this particular one.

"Oh please, I know your tricks, Mister No Pain No Gain, if I ain't hurt it ain't any fun!"

"I don't say ain't!"

"Not the point here, John." Rodney puts the kettle on what they supposed is the stove and goes to fetch a washcloth. He suddenly reappears, biting lip and worried frown interrupting John's ceiling gazing. "Can you sit up? It would be a good idea to get you out of your clothes. You're wet and drippy and you smell like…I don't know really…" he lowers his face closer to John and sniffs.

"Rodney. Personal space breech."

He snaps back. "Yes, well, you stink."

"Thanks. You sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself."

"Not my job." Rodney gives a little shrug, already too busy with his plan, which is apparently to hurt John even more.

"Ow! Stop it!"

"What are you, a ragdoll? Help yourself a bit!"

"Help thyself and Heaven will help thee?"

Rodney's face registers surprise, before he grins smugly. "Why, yes my Child, this heavenly presence will lower himself and reach out to you."

"I'm honoured, but I'm sure that's not what the guy meant."

"You disgust me. You know the quote but not the quotee?" Keeping the conversation going is a good way to distract both John and himself from the task at hand. Undressing an injured Lieutenant Colonel was never on his list of top ten favourite things to do after being traded into slavery to moronic, and obviously aggressive, cosmetically-named people. Not that he has such a list, but if he had, it would not make it.

"Hey, listen, I tend to keep space in my brain for the practical things in life. You know, bringing a canteen that actually contains water; getting the laundry done before I have no more clean clothes; reloading when out of ammo; not eating whatever's left on Zelenka's desk from four days ago…useful stuff."

"Oh shut up! I'm far too busy to pay attention to these things. In truth, it's a waste of my incredibly advanced intellect. You think the Asgard think about ammo and laundry?"

"They have no clothes and no guns!"

Rodney pays the interruption no mind. "No, and since I'm obviously superior, I think _people_," he gives John a pointed look, "should cut me some slack. Especially people who keep, and I quote, space in their brain."

"Fine, here's me cutting you some slack. Now will you cut me some and try not to rip my foot off! There are laces on those boots Rodney, can you _please_ undo them!" It is not a blow to his manhood to have his friend untie his laces, not at all. They will never speak of it again, under threat of death, but he does not feel diminished in the slightest. He could do it, of course, but when he reaches for them, Rodney bats his hands away. He tries once more. "Move! Let me do it! Ow! I'll do it!"

"Stop complaining!" Rodney puts the soggy, muddy, filthy boots beside the door and takes the kettle off the stove. He fills their reasonably sized basin with a pitiful amount of water and repeats the process a few times before it is sufficiently filled for the water to at least reach John's calves.

"We'll never think of this again, deal?"

"Deal, definitely deal."

John is sitting by the basin, both feet comfortably warm, the rest of him shivering, as Rodney runs the washcloth over his mud and blood caked skin. He has kept his shorts, he does have a sense of modesty after all, but the rest of him is fair game apparently. Not that Rodney seems to be enjoying the process at all, and is that not the mark of a good man indeed, to sacrifice your fear of 'touching' for an injured friend? John doesn't bother exploring why he doesn't care more about this situation. He should be intensely uncomfortable, he doesn't like his private space invaded, but this is Rodney. _Rodney_. So he allows himself to be washed, for his cuts to be, if not treated, at least looked at and liberally bandaged. He evens keeps his complaints of shoddy services to a minimum.

Rodney keeps talking to mask his worry. John's injuries do not appear to be severe, but they are numerous. If there is something that he truly despises, it is seeing any member of his team hurt. He startles as he thinks of Teyla, Ronon and Ford, abandoning him, abandoning John. He knew he would never be well-liked by everyone, it is a fact of life he has no trouble believing, but he thought perhaps his team had come to understand him, to even like him somehow. He sighs and returns his thoughts to the task at hand. When John has been thoroughly checked for wounds and possible breaks, Rodney helps him into his nightclothes then into bed, with a promise of dinner, and reprises his role of motor mouth extraordinaire.

"Then, the complete moron who oversees the place stuck me with an even bigger moron and it was all I could do not to staple him to the wall so he would stop following me around!"

"They have staples?"

Rodney turns, frowning. "What?" Replaying John's statement, he shakes his head. "No, they don't have staples. It's an image, I'm trying to make a point! There you go, quoting a man who wrote French poetry and not even able to recognise the slightest figure of speech!"

"Oh…yeah, because they don't have much here, I was surprised." He cannot help the grin and Rodney makes a displeased face when he realises he is being mocked.

"They do have a lot of Ancient devices! You should see it! Rows and rows of them! They've barely begun cataloguing them, of course, they don't really know how to make them work, mostly get lucky with the ones that only need activation and not much thought process at all! They have one, this is really exciting, I think I read about it in the database back home and if it is what I think it is, which is quite likely, it can read minds! Can you believe that? Read minds! I'm not much for ESP and that pitiful excuse for a science that is the psyche world, but an Ancient device that allows you to read minds! That'd be amazing wouldn't it?"

That is what John likes about Rodney. He can get so excited about things which interest him, enough to forget any bad situation in which they find themselves. Granted, sometimes, on missions, it can be quite problematic, but now, he loves it. As he watches with droopy eyes Rodney move about the kitchen portion of their room, John is glad he stayed with him. Despite the injuries, despite the enslavement, despite anything that might come to be, he cannot regret his choice. Leaving Rodney behind was never an option.

"Yeah, and when I get it to work, I might be able to examine it, since hey," he turns to John, eyes alight, index finger of the right hand pointed up, "they told me to bring that one home so I could keep working on it, maybe I can bring it here and we can try it out?" He frowns. "Not that I want you to read my mind or anything."

"Same here." John looks at the device lying on the table. It glows blue, but does not seem threatening. He supposes he can trust Rodney not to blow them up, change their hair colour, start a cacophony of loud noises, or make them speak in tongues for the better part of an hour.

"I suppose not. Still, it's interesting! Maybe I can read their minds and figure out what they want from us, or better yet, it they would really attack Atlantis! I really don't think they have the capabilities, but it isn't an acceptable risk until we know. But if they don't, we could go back home, couldn't we? I'm sure we could come up with a plan and…" He stops talking, moving, smiling. He stands near the oven, heating some stew which was in their food allotment hamper for the day, still and silent.

"Rodney?" John can only see his back, but the slump of his shoulders is telling enough, when coupled with the sudden lack of babbling.

"We're stuck here."

"No we're not. They're going to send a rescue team."

Rodney's silence lengthens before he shakes himself out of his stupor. "Yeah…of course, you're right. What are they going to do without me, eh? The science team could sink the city within the week, by accident. Oh, and your men would probably resort to their primitive state and shoot themselves accidentally. Here, dinner's ready."

They eat, sitting side by side on the cot, talking about this and that, nothing of consequences. They do not say what is on their minds. John does not say he fears they might believe Atlantis could fall to the Lopstack and leave them here. Elizabeth is conservative, less now than she was, but she would not jeopardise the city's security for two men. He wouldn't either, but of course were he in Atlantis, he would not think the city in danger. Neither does Rodney say that he is glad John stayed with him, for were he alone he would certainly let his mind drift down the path of self-persecution. Sometimes, Rodney truly hates himself and his social inadequacies, and if John was not here, he would probably believe he had been left behind because he was unworthy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes:** Getting there, slowly but surely. Should manage to get it all posted soon :) Thanks for your comments!

**Crest**

"Mira has been travelling quite regularly to three worlds. Two are familiar to me though I have not visited them for some time, whilst the third is said to be the home of deviance and has been forbidden for more years than I could remember."

Ronon thought, coming from Lokas, that was saying a lot. The man was certainly old enough to remember a plethora of information from many different times and places. He turned his attention to Doctor Weir when she spoke.

"The home of deviance? Is there anything more said about that world?"

"Nothing that is reliable or helpful. Simply, it is said to be a place where purity is tainted, truths are lies and the hidden is unveiled. I believe the basis of these tales might lie in reality but now the idea of a world which deviance has made its home is used for the purpose of teaching, reflecting."

Truths are lies, hidden is unveiled. "Can we go there? Do you know the address?" Ronon would gladly rise and pummel the gate tech who could not say why the address had not been stored in the database. All incoming wormhole's addresses were stored, all of them except this one. It was as if the Ancestors themselves were working against them, against Sheppard and McKay. At least Lokas brought them hope.

Lokas turned to Ronon, surprised. "Yes. I have knowledge of the worlds Mira visits as per our agreement. She has remained on Atle, continuing her life as Lady Celebrant, but she is under my constant surveillance."

That was a lie. "She goes off-world alone!"

"Yes, but we know where and when."

"But not why?" Ronon thought the why was the most important factor. It explained everything, was the basis of all and could bring forgiveness for atrocious actions. Why was at the heart of man, its nature, its motivation. The truly dangerous ones had no answers to give, they did not know why, they simply knew the when and where.

"She has earned some liberties from her willingness to help me understand Oblee's reasons, what she had become."

"Her liberties have allowed her to take Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay once more." Teyla was not impressed. A threat to them had been allowed to roam free and had taken great advantage of that freedom. Who knew what might've been happening to John and Rodney at this very moment. She knew leaving that world had been the best decision, as proved by Lokas' presence and their eventual ability to recover their men, but she felt an oppressing guilt nonetheless. Their men. Ronon and herself had left them behind, for the greater good perhaps, but behind nonetheless.

"A situation which I will remedy promptly." Lokas stood. "I have said all I know and will need to speak with Mira. If what you have told me is indeed her responsibility, I will see that she be made to correct her mistake."

Excuses, excuses, the man was full of them! He saw wrong but always forgave, swept it away with a vague excuse and a brush of the hand and Ronon would not allow it! "It was not a mistake! She brought us there! She gave us to that world!"

"She allowed you to leave, did she not?"

"Because I was of no use to them!"

Teyla's hand came to rest on Ronon's forearm. "We are not here to discuss the validity of Mira's action, Ronon."

Elizabeth judged it an opportune time for her to resume her place in the conversation. "Thank you Teyla. Lokas, we would appreciate if Mira could arrange for us to meet the people holding Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay. Your help in this matter is greatly appreciated." She stood and shook his hand before leading him to the gateroom.

"You should not be so prompt to judge him!" Teyla stood and gathered the tea set on its tray, mindful of easing the responsibilities of whoever would come to fetch the remains of their meeting.

"He lies! He excuses her actions! We are missing half of our team because he wasn't able to restrain her!" He watched her move across the room to the door. She paused and he moved to her side.

They exited the briefing room and made their way through Atlantis, uncaring of the area they would find themselves in, of their destination. Teyla could understand Ronon's feeling, share them even, but she knew that to each world its own rules, as did he. "We cannot judge the way others choose to run their worlds. You know as well as I that there are many different beliefs and as many reasons for them. We must respect that. Lokas has been nothing but helpful ever since we first encountered him!"

"Yeah, maybe he has reasons for that." Reasons. _Why_? Why made man, or perhaps man made why? The thirst for knowledge. Images of McKay's professional life flashed through his head and he wanted to revel in them as much as he wanted to forget. The thrill of discovery, the frustration of denial, the joy of right, the despair of wrong. Why made the man a scientist. He had never understood how much knowledge meant to him, how he found solace in simply knowing what others did not, it made him feel special, how he thought it was his only redeeming quality. Ronon shook his head, attempting to clear it

"He returned John to us, even though we killed his sister!"

It was Sheppard's memories that now assaulted him. His loneliness and despair crafted by Oblee's hands. She had deserved to die, he believed it more now than he had then. Seeing what she had put John through, how she had hurt him made him proud of his baser instinct, the one that had pushed him to wrap his hands around her neck and snap it like a twig. His memories were much more satisfying than Sheppard's "_I _killed his sister. Don't involve yourself in it Teyla! _I_ did it! It's my blood." She would not claim this! She had enough of her own and he would not allow her more.

"See it as you will, but do not disrespect him or make your dislike evident! He will help us if he can, as he has done before! We owe him so much! Have you forgotten already?" She saw it all in her mind's eye. John's death, its effect on them. Its effect on Rodney and…on her. They had managed to mend a great portion of the chasm that had grown between the four of them, but she still felt as if some animosity resided between her and Rodney. Looking over at her walking companion, she felt the tightness in her recede slightly. The two of them had spoken lengthily upon their return from Atle and had grown closer. She was fortunate to have found such an understanding man behind the gruff, stony façade.

"I remember, we all remember, you know that."

"I do, I was simply reminding you, bringing it closer to mind."

"It's close enough…I saw it."

"You saw what?"

"Sheppard. With those people, in the Sancta…I saw what he saw, I saw what she did to him and what he…went through."

She fell silent, wondering what it would feel like to know so much. She concluded it would be too much, a burden to bear. "I wish you hadn't."

The guilt he had been carrying, the bitter taste of his own betrayal rose in his mouth. "I couldn't help it! It was stronger than me…enticing…" His voice lowered on the last word as if he feared the ridicule it carried.

"I do not blame you. I meant to say that it must be quite difficult for you to forget what you have seen. I am certain…" She breathed in deeply. "…my blood is not the only one you must call your own."

"No…" It was not just blood. In fact, it was not the red, nor the black that had shaken him, that followed him; it was the blue. He didn't see anger or death as much as he saw heartache and grief.

They walked around the city, walking out on balconies, sitting on railings or benches. They walked for hours, they talked for much less. He would not tell his secrets, nor did she want to hear them. It was only when Doctor Weir contacted them that they returned to the world beyond their heartache.

They had information, they had people and they had a go for a rescue mission.


	10. Chapter 10

**Peak**

"This has got to stop!"

John is nearly crawling to his cot ignoring Rodney's big hands keeping him upright. The big man he fought with on his first day of training was unrelenting in his pursuit.

Today has been a particularly fun time. First, the rain was still coming down, soaking into everything, feeding the overly engorged earth of the field. Second, there were the injuries which would not heal, despite their best efforts. Third, nothing motivates a man like a perceived insult to his person, and the big man whose name, John had been fortunate enough to learn was Bluty, seemed to take John's mere existence as a continued offence. Thus, he was always the one to beat on John, or train as they wished to term it, and did so with relish.

So it was that today Bluty had been quite aggressive. They had started as they always did, by standing before each other, their fists raised, a nice imitation of sneering distorting their features. John enjoyed that part. He had struck first, simply because it would not affect the game and he thought he deserved the satisfaction of the first blow. So he had struck, a straightforward hit to the shoulder. Then he had struck no more, for a long, _long_ time.

Bluty is not the most imaginative of man, plays dirty and has the stamina of a horse; today's beating was no different from all the ones that came before. The legs first, always the legs and even though he is quite proficient in the art of blocking, there is only so much a man can do to protect himself. When the choice is a hit to the head or the legs, one has to set his priorities. The rest is usually more random, once John is slower and an easy target. So, Bluty waited until John tired and then pounced. Like a cat, playing with its prey. Of course, nobody made it easy for him. Bluty forced him to move toward the other men so they could get a shot at him too. John isn't well liked. Possibly because his life is safe; the gene is a precious commodity around these parts and by association, so is he. Many slaves participated in the 'beat the snot out of John' hour, on this rotten day.

As Rodney helps him undress, it has almost become a nightly ritual, John keeps a tally of his injuries, attempting to recall the ones that are fresh. "Well, he got me in the knee cap pretty good at first…then there was the back of my neck, but it wasn't him, it was that other guy and he didn't get a good shot. Ummmm, legs again and shoulder. Yeah, he got me good in the shoulder.

"I can see that." How Rodney hates it, though he is the one to demand the daily rundown. The lightness of John's tone, as if it does not matter that he is slowly being beaten to death. Perhaps that is a slight overreaction, but getting such a rough beating every few days cannot be conducive to good health. Never mind the lighter ones he does get everyday.

John laughs but has to stop when a harsh cough takes over. "He had to get my legs Rodney, the bastard can't take me unless I'm good and tired!"

His next laugh is too much for Rodney. "It's not funny!" He cannot help the anger, it boils up so quickly, there is no warning. "It's not funny at all! How can you just sit there and tell me all about it, as if it's nothing!" He holds the washcloth to John's face. It is as it has been everyday: muddied and bloodied. "Look! Everyday it's the same thing! You can't go on like this!"

"What am I suppose to do? Huh? Genius? You tell me! What am I suppose to do?"

"I don't know, but we have to do something!"

The argument continues for some time. When they settle for dinner, it is in a companionable silence.

The next day does not proceed as planned, at least not for John. The morning is more of the same. Proper training, with people who have no wish to bring about his demise, followed by a delicious lunch of watery soup and rocky bread. After lunch, a higher official, one he recognises from their first day here, comes to the field and demands that John follow him.

He is brought to the research facility where Rodney slaves away and worry takes hold of his body, surpassing the ever-persistent pain. He attempts to get answers from the man. "Is Doctor McKay alright?"

"Yes, he is well. He has requested your presence claiming you will be of much help in our research."

That's good! He is guided to the very end of a corridor and through a door. There is Rodney, in his environment; surrounded by Ancient devices, hunched over a table, muttering to himself.

"Hey Rodney!"

"Sit, take this." He indicates a stool on a perpendicular angle to his and a device that lies on the table before it.

John comes around the table and does as indicated. "So, what are we doing here Doctor?" He grins, happy to be there, with Rodney, out of the field and away from Bluty. Not that he would ever admit it. He hates being helpless, at the mercy of anyone.

The official exits the room and locks the door behind himself.

"We're working."

"Right. How'd you manage this?"

"Concentrate." He gestures to the device.

"How?"

"With your, granted limited, mental capacity! Think at it!"

"No. How'd you do it? Come on, spill it!"

"We'll talk about it later, we're here to work. Concentrate!"

"Ok, but seriously – "

"Concentrate!"

Seeing the serious look in Rodney's eyes, he accepts the promise of a later discussion.

The afternoon goes on peacefully, John and Rodney working together. There is none of the friendly banter that characterises their relationship, but it is perfectly understandable, this is not playtime in Atlantis. It is late afternoon when the sound of keys in a lock indicates the return of their official. It is a different man who enters. Not a guard, but a 'scientist'.

"Doctor McKay, you are done for the day. What have you managed to achieve?"

A very subdued Rodney answers. "These are the devices we have managed to activate and categorise. These are the ones which so far have proven uncooperative and these two are the ones I will be taking home for further examination." If he adds 'you un-evolved jerk' in his head, no one needs to know.

"Is that all?" The man eyes the nine devices in the categorised pile. "Nine devices? I had been told your work would proceed faster if this man provided his gene!"

"It has! We have activated three devices which so far had proved useless."

John cannot believe this is Rodney speaking! He is so polite, deferring to the man, almost bending over to kiss his feet. He understands, but hates it. He cannot stand to see Rodney like that. The scientist should be condescending, arrogant, smug; proving his worth!

The man frowns. "It is insufficient. You clearly stated this man's help would mean great improvement!"

"He was only brought here in the afternoon, progress was not as expected!"

"Very well! I will accept this for today if you present three more working devices to fill your quota. You will show them to me at the first hour of your day or you will go to room seventeen before you return to your lodgings! Good evening."

The man steps out and a guard motions for them to precede him.

"This isn't so bad." John takes in the view allowed by the small window. Green grass, tall trees swinging in the wind. He can see the gate from here, glinting atop its flowery hill. The sun has started its descent and his hitting the naquadah ring, making it look like an oversized halo. John's mind supplies the word 'salvation' but he pushes it away.

The answer is quick, snaps out like a whip. "You're completely insane."

John turns to Rodney, who is sitting at their rickety table, working on the devices he brought home. He has been mumbling with increasing volume for the past hour whilst John was reading the rules from his newly delivered copy of the book of slave cannon fodder. Obviously, that's not what they call it here, they call it the guide to first defensive unit, but John knows exactly what it means. He's training to be cannon fodder, a living shield for the skilled – another Lopstack euphemism, this one meaning _not_ a slave – fighters of this world. He's lucky he has the gene, it's a rare commodity. In fact, there are only five people on this world who have it, including Rodney and himself. Now, the beatings will stop because he'll only train in the morning. Away from Bluty, his injuries will have time to heal properly!

"No, I mean it. You get to play with your tech-thingies, I get to train for a few hours then be lazy with you in the pits. Less work than on Atlantis."

Rodney's eyes widen slightly and he lets go of the device that has to be functioning tomorrow morning when he goes back to the research facility, or the pits as they not-so-jokingly refer to it. "Oh God, you are insane!" He moves from his chair and takes the few steps needed to bring him closer to his friend.

"I'm not insane! I'm just saying it could be worse!"

"I'm so comforted by that thought, it makes my days that much more pleasant. The lack of any privacy, the barked orders, their failure to understand that not everything will work because they wish it! Atrocious food, really _really_ horrible clothes, your suicidal training, which I'm sure you appreciate what with that personality trait that makes you die all the time, the stupid cot that will eventually break my back, the guy that follows me everywhere and the one who won't accept that I can't make it all work! I can't! It's dead! What do they expect me to do! I can't do it all ok? And you know what will happen! You know what they'll do if I can't do it!"

John squeezes Rodney's shoulder and quickly releases it. He is working himself into frenzy and perhaps this was not the best subject. The first few days were horrible, filled with the anxiety of unknown circumstances, but now they know what is expected of them, now he knows he will not die a weakling in a field. He thinks more is expected of Rodney than of him. It seems Rodney promised the moon in exchange for John's presence in the pits and he will be the one to pay if he can't do more. The room seventeen business if weighing heavily on John's mind. Rodney pretends he doesn't know what it means, what lies beyond the heavy metal door they passed today, but he is a poor liar. "Woah, ok. It's not so good...it's not so bad either? Right?"

"Yes it is! You don't even see it, you don't _get_ it, but it is that bad! We're going to be here for life and there's not much I can do to assure we live it out fully, ok? That thing," he points to the device, lying uselessly on the table, "doesn't work. You think they're going to accept that?"

"Come on. You can make anything work, and we're not going to be here for life! Elizabeth will send a rescue team."

Rodney's shoulders droop and he moves away from John. He runs a hand over his face, tiredness and a constant state of stress taking too much out of him. "They would've come already."

"It takes time to mount a rescue! We've only been here for a few days!"

"It doesn't take this much time when they know where to look." He turns to face John once more. "Look, you're not there to insist. You're the one who insists. Elizabeth is always so scared of dealing with unfriendly worlds…they're not coming."

"Sure they are. They need us."

"You hold on to that…" Rodney goes back to his device, intent on making it work. It is not so much the thrill of discovering its purpose anymore, more the one of having an intact body, or an intact friend. He looks over at John who is watching him.

"You want me to try it?"

"No. You tried it today."

"Maybe it'll work for me now?"

"Oh, that's right, Mister Big gene there! Anything Ancient's a complete trollop for you!"

"A trollop?" John cannot prevent the grin that spreads. "Who says trollop anymore?"

"Obviously, I do!" He fiddles with the device before letting out a put-upon sigh and placing it in John's outstretched hand. He is not glad when it remains silent, when it does not vibrate or glow or hum. He hates it. Hates it with all his considerable might.

John lays it on the table and takes place in the other chair, facing Rodney. "It's dead."

"I know," he says, but is really thinking that _they_ are dead. Silence stretches, as long as the shadows created by the receding sun. The room becomes tinted with reds and oranges and still they do not talk. They would not know what to say, both of them so preoccupied with what could happen when the morning comes and still the device does not perform.


	11. Chapter 11

Thank you Angela, for making this fic so much more.

**Notes: **I'll apologise in advance for the delay between thisposting the next, finals next week! Should post the rest before the end of the month. As always, thank you for your kind comments :) Hopefully the confusion will clear up soon :)

**Patterns**

'Ho-I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts. There they are, standing in a rrrrrow. Big ones, small ones, some as big yer head. Give 'em a –'

"Ok , it works it works! What was that?" Rodney deposits the device on the table and looks at John curiously.

"What?"

"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts?"

"I had to concentrate on something."

"Fine, but you know that even in your head you're tuneless, right? How is that even possible?"

"Not everyone is preoccupied with keeping in tune, in their _heads, _Doctor I-must-excel-at-everything-I-do!"

"Yes well, I am extremely gifted. Next time, try to do better. Also, the pseudo accent was pitiful, at best."

Brushing off the insult to his musical abilities or lack thereof, John leans forward grinning, an excited twinkle in his eyes. "So it works?"

Rodney rolls his eyes, but he answers with a smile. "Of course it works! I just told you what you were singing in your head, didn't I?"

"I could've been humming!"

The device is back in Rodney's hand, glowing under his intrusive gaze. "Were you?"

"I don't know, was I?"

"What do you mean you don't know? Don't you have any control? You should know if you're humming or not!"

"Try it again!" He concentrates on a different piece of his repertoire and waits for Rodney's face to take a slightly slack look. Ah, there it is. 'Sooooooy uuuun perdedor. I'm a loser babyyy, so why don't you kill meee. Sooooooy uuuun perdedor. I'm a loser ba –'

"Not humming. Definitely not humming. Your mind is a scary place."

"How do you figure that?"

"You're a loser but you've got a lovely bunch of coconuts?"

"I'm diversified!" John raises his hands in protest.

"Uh huh." Rodney is not impressed. John shrugs, it isn't the first time.

John eyes the device. He does not want to see in Rodney's mind, but he is curious to see what it feels like, how it works. His eyes travel up to meet Rodney's and finds uncertainty. He shakes his head. "Alright…so it works! We should try it on that scientist guy! I'll distract him when he comes and you do your thing!"

"I'm going to say this once, it's going to kill me and you will not hold it over me forever or you will forego your sanity because I'm going to go to work on you and make you _wish_ you were never born. Yougeneisstrongeryoushoulddoit.

"Excuse me? Can you add some elocution to your speech, because I thought you said my gene is superior and I should use the device because it will work so much better for me than for you?"

"That's not what I said!"

"It's close!"

"No it's not! I didn't say it was superior! I said it was stronger! Strength does not equate superiority I'll have you know!"

"It doesn't? Jeeeez Rodney, are you sure? I could've sworn humanity made progress because big men beat the snot out of the little smart ones!"

"That might be, the genius of this world spent much of its time theorizing to forego the 'fun with bullies' time, and that is not the point. The point is your gene is not superior, it's stronger and will you please just take the damn thing and try it before the crazy guy in a lab coat comes back?"

"Ok, but clear your head first, I don't want to stumble on any disturbing bits."

"I don't have disturbing bits in my head! It's all very precise and orderly and normal!"

"Ummm, precise, ok. Orderly, ok. Normal? No way in Hell. Hell, now that, I would believe." He shivers theatrically.

"Oh haha. Get to work, funny man."

John hears mumbling that sounds suspiciously like 'Hell is other people'. He waits for a few minutes. It seems painful for Rodney to clear his mind and watching his clenched eyes and scrunched up nose, John let out a small laugh. Eyes unclench and the face goes from effort-filled scrunching to annoyed frowning.

"What!"

"Having trouble?"

"No! Now shut up, I have to concentrate!"

"No you don't, that's the whole point!"

"Excuse me if my extremely advanced mind has a problem with emptying! I think; that's what I do!"

"I know…just think of something that I won't be afraid of, ok? So, some theory…a simple one, I don't want to get a headache with your unreasonable leaps of logic."

"My leaps of logic are always reasonable! I am very good at it! I can leap all over your basic logic! My logic could kick your logic's ass!"

"Are we on the strength superiority thing again? Let it go Rodney. I was kidding."

"What?"

"Clear your head already!"

"Stop distracting me!"

"Sorry. Proceed." John grabs the device and concentrates on Rodney's presence, his energy and then…

'Don't think about that! Just don't think, don't think, don't think, don't think. This is me not thinking, not thinking, not thinking. What if they send me…no, don't think, don't think, don't think.'

John puts the device on the table and eyes Rodney strangely. "So…it works…but I think you're mind is broken."

"It's not broken! I didn't want you in it! I have very sensitive things in there that no one should be made aware of, under any circumstances! I've been involved in top-secret projects most of my adult life you know!"

"Yeah, well, my security clearance is pretty high."

"Not enough for most of the stuff in there." He taps his temple. "It works then?"

"Yup, works pretty good."

Rodney's smile lights up his face. "We can test it! You should…ummm…put it in your pocket, I'll stall lab coat and you can see what, if anything, is on his mind!"

"You'll stall?" John looks dubious.

"What's wrong with me stalling?"

"Nothing really. You've just, never been good at it, have you?"

"Well, no…but…oh, look! I'll just explain what we've done today and it'll give you plenty of time! Just concentrate! You won't need an hour will you? It'll work fast! You just have to concentrate and not let your little childish mind wander when time counts!"

John snaps his fingers an inch from Rodney's nose to regain the man's attention before he collapses in a fit of overstressed babbling. "It'll be fine. I'm not a complete imbecile. Just because you believe it, doesn't make it true."

"Yeah ok…I suppose it's fine."

"Be still my heart! Doctor McKay, was that a…a…compliment!"

"No!"

"I do believe it was!"

"No it wasn't! Just because I have no one else to work with, doesn't kick you up to my level!"

"I'm all over you level and you know it."

The click of a key in the lock makes the two men forget their silly bickering and stand up. Rodney gives John a meaningful look and he nods in response, rolling his eyes to benefit Rodney's assumption that he cannot be trusted to carry a simple operation with Ancient technology.

"Good afternoon Doctor McKay, Colonel Sheppard, I trust you've done well today?" The lab coat man comes at the end of every workday to verify their work. John thinks he looks a bit like a young Jack Lemmon, which is a funny coincidence considering how badly Rodney reacts to him.

"As well as could be expected." Rodney's eyes stay fixed on the bane of his present existence, hoping to draw his attention away from John. Of course, the fact that it is what he must do only causes his nervousness to grow. "You'll want to take a look at this, it's interesting. I'm sure it can help your people make great progress towards a better understanding of science."

"We know enough Doctor McKay and you would do good to remember that! You are not needed here, we can do without you!"

"Yes, of course. Of course you can, I didn't mean anything by it. It's an interesting discovery."

"It is _our _discovery."

"Yes, obviously."

This is not working. John is concentrating, he can feel the device working, but there is nothing, he cannot hear anything but Rodney's nervous chatter. He concentrates on the scientist and suddenly, he hears Rodney's voice speaking to the man and the voice in his head that is decidedly afraid. So, the device works, as proven by his drop into Rodney's mind. He goes back to the other man, unwilling to spy on his friend. It's his mind, he has no wish to be in it without permission and does not need the input; he can see Rodney's fear through the magic of physiognomy.

"How much have you done today?"

Rodney moves to the table where they have set the devices according to three categories. "These are in working order and have been catalogued; these are working but we are unable to ascertain their purpose, and these don't work at all."

"Nine. You have only nine working devices once more?"

"Yes."

"You were asked for ten."

"It took some time to activate some of these."

"You were asked for ten."

The conversation continues for some time and ends with the daily threat of room seventeen, though this time it is said that Rodney will visit it tomorrow night. Rodney pretends it does not affect him, but he fears it, the unknown, the possibilities. When finally they are allowed to leave for the day, they make it home in no time, Rodney's excitement palpable, all fear of tomorrow forgotten.

John follows him at his usual pace and reaches the door only to be pulled in and have it slam shut directly behind him. "In a hurry much?"

"So?" Rodney's all eagerness and ebullient enthusiasm.

"It didn't work."

"What?"

"I didn't get anything."

Rodney throws his hands in the air and huff in frustration. "I knew it! I knew you couldn't do it!"

"It wasn't me! The device was working! It just didn't work on that guy!"

"How can you know it was working if it didn't work?"

John squares his shoulder, ready to admit his indiscretion. "I tried it on you…"

"Oh…"Rodney is unsure of what his reaction should be. He starts wringing his hands and moves from one foot to the other. He supposes John had a good reason, but he still invaded his mind and that's a place that has been invaded quite enough in the past year, between Cadman and Heightmeyer.

"Hey," John reaches out and takes a hold of Rodney's bicep to still his nervous shuffle. "There wasn't anything I couldn't see. I mean…you were scared, I know you, I could see that."

"So it makes it alright! You could see it already, it doesn't matter that you invaded my privacy?"

"No. It matters and I'm sorry. I just meant, you didn't give away any of your deep dark secrets."

"Did it?" John's sorry, he'll accept it. It's not as if he has any other friends from who to receive apologies right now.

"Not on that guy, just on you."

"That's…strange…"

"Yeah…"

Rodney holds out his hand. "Give it here, I'll try it on the neighbours."

"You can't do that!"

"And why not?"

"That's…eavesdropping…"

One big hand snatches the device and Rodney walks to the door. "So? I don't know these people, they're not my friends." He exits the room.

John watches him go, grinning. Trust Rodney to be angry over something one minute and do that exact thing the next. He walks out and stands on the threshold watching Rodney creep through the corridor to the next door and coming to a stop before it. His face takes on that slack expression and John waits. The frown and angry huff that results from Rodney's little experiment gives him all the answers he needs. No longer in 'stealth mode', Rodney stomps back to their room.

"It doesn't work!"

"That's what I said."

"But…why! Why doesn't it work! It works on the both of us!"

"Don't know. One thing I do know is, I'm tired." John stands and moves to his cot.

"It just doesn't make sense! I'm going to figure this one out! I'm not letting it go!"

A soft chuckle comes from the darkest corner of the room. "I didn't think you would."


	12. Chapter 12

Lovely Angela, stop rubbing it in!

**Notes: **Breaaaaaathe! No more finals! Wheee! Which means I should get this finished soon! Thank you for your patience, you guys are great!

**Reaction**

He doesn't want to know what happened! He doesn't want to hear about what can put Rodney in such a state! Panic is not an option here! Anyways, he doesn't do panic. He's calm and collected, cool as a cucumber. A-Ok, going with the flow.

"Shit! Rodney, come on. It's alright!"

What a pair they make. One bruised and battered, the other…he doesn't quite know what's wrong with Rodney, but it sure isn't anything good!

"You want some water?"

Rodney's eyes are focused but unseeing, his skin pale and clammy, he vomited for at least an hour earlier. In the end, there was nothing left, just the sound of dry heaving.

When they got to the pits this morning, the crazy lab coat man was there, waiting. He was not happy and made good with his threat. Rodney would be taken to room seventeen before they returned home for the evening. He doesn't remember the day that passed, only the silent walk through grey corridors, as depressing as they were long, and stopping in front of the metal door. Rodney went in and…some guy came out. He looked like Rodney, smelled like Rodney, sure as hell felt like Rodney, but he wasn't. He isn't! That man, sitting on the floor, staring vaguely in front of him, not even registering John's presence, that's not Rodney! It's as if he's gone on break; his skull will soon be putting up the vacancy sign.

"Come on. Hey, listen, if you look at me, I'll let you have the last of the soapy thing. Yeah? There's not much left of it too. Just look at me, ok? Just see me. Come on Rodney, you can do it! I'm right here! Look, right in your face. You hate that; do something about it!" John is so close he can see Rodney's eyelashes cut through the air as he blinks slowly, so disturbingly slow. It doesn't work, nothing he's tried has worked! He knows what to do, has done what he was supposed to, but it hasn't help! John is out of ideas.

He sits beside Rodney, close enough so their arms are touching, because it's the only thing he can think of doing. He thinks that maybe he does it more for himself than for Rodney at this point. He can't reach him anyways.

"You know what? I can't believe you! You're not allowed to do this! You have to tell me what happened. You have to look at me and tell me what the hell they did to you! They didn't tell me anything. Not that it's surprising but you know, a guy can hope right?" He can't do this, talk to himself, hoping Rodney will answer. He's seen this before! Guys coming back from a mission in body but not in mind. They stay back there, like Jamieson who saw his scientist be decapitated in some barbaric anti-fertility protest. John shivers at the memory and sends his regards to Doctor Brody. She was a nice woman, smart and sweet. He just wishes he could know what happened to Rodney in there. They've gone through so much already, he can't let himself go, not here! Lost in his thoughts, John doesn't notice the light quality receding, but suddenly he realises he can't see much of anything. It's so dark in their little corner of the universe. So dark and he's so alone. Rodney's reassuring bulk is right there, pressed against his side, but John is alone.

He continues to sit in silence, hour after hour, hoping that Rodney will come back soon and eventually he does. It's gradual, at first it doesn't register but then there it is, tension in Rodney's body. John speaks quietly, afraid to break the silence. "Rodney?"

"Shh."

"What?"

"Shhh."

Ok, so he can do the shush thing for a while. At least Rodney made a noise, moved a little bit closer. They continue to sit in the dark for some time before Rodney speaks again. He hadn't gone very far; had wanted a break, some time before he had to remember, to understand. He knows what he saw, it's back now, the reprieve was only that. John will want to know. He doesn't want to, but he has to tell him. He knows that he can trust John, that he can go to him when things go wrong.

"They killed her."

Rodney's voice is so quiet, John can barely make out the words. He answers in the same tone. "Who?"

"The people in the room. They killed her."

"Who's her?"

"I don't know. Oh God, I don't even know."

There is it, the dam has broken. Rodney wasn't gone, he was hiding. Now he can't, but he doesn't have to. John is there. "It's ok."

"No…no no no no no it's not. They killed her because of me! They killed her because I couldn't get the device to work! Because I failed! I failed and she died!"

"That's not true. It's not your fault!"

"Yes it is! It is! I should've made it work! Oh God, she was so little! She was tiny!"

John cannot do anything but wait and offer a comforting presence as Rodney relives the brief and yet unending events. "All that hair, how can something so small have so much hair! She…oh God, she wasn't even…I don't know…she couldn't have been more than…damn it, why don't I know these things? She was…five, maybe six, or seven. I really don't know, but she was so tiny and they just…I didn't know what to do!"

"It's alright, not your fault."

"Good as, it's as good as! Just one more device! If I could've made one more glow a little, just pretend to work for a second!"

"Don't take it on yourself."

"I was the only one there! I wasn't good enough and she paid for it…she was so tiny. I swear, she was tiny and pretty, all those blonde curls you know? She smiled! She smiled at me!" He pulls away and looks at John. "I did this…I killed her. I couldn't work out the device and I killed her! I knew it would happen and I still –"

"Rodney. You. Did. Not. Do. This."

"If I could've worked it out! Maybe if I'd worked harder!"

"Don't." John reaches out to Rodney but the scientist pulls it away. He rises and walks away from the area where he had been sitting for the better part of the night. John follows, and hates this powerlessness, helplessness that seems to be the only thing this world can offer. He's useless again, completely useless.

"I don't…I can't…" Rodney sits on his cot, elbows on knees, head in hands. "She was so young! They just…"

John sits beside him, close enough to feel the shivers running through his body. "Tell me." He doesn't know the best way to handle this, how Rodney will cope with what he saw.

"No!" Rodney's hands go to his boots, unlacing them, putting them aside with unnecessary fuss.

Once he is done, John lays a hand on his back, the coldness of the air and the metallic wall they had been leaning against transferred to the man's flesh. He had better not screw this up; must do and say the right thing, if only he knew what they were. "Rodney, tell me."

"I don't want to…"

"Ok, but you should."

"You don't want to know." Rodney's voice is quiet, small, carries none of the bite a similar comment would've usually delivered.

"Maybe not, but you should tell me anyways."

Rodney's eyes bore into him and he holds them steadily. It could be true that he would want nothing of the experience Rodney now carries within him, but it is fact that he certainly will not let his friend suffer in silence.

After a deep, long breath, Rodney starts recounting his stay in room seventeen. "I walked in and there was a guy I haven't seen before. He was sitting at a desk…a normal desk, like any other desk. It looks like every other office in there. It looks normal! I couldn't have guessed what they were going to do! I just…"

John moves his hand in a small circle on the strong back, attempting to soothe Rodney into the semblance of calm he achieved a moment ago. He stops when Rodney speaks again.

Another deep breath and Rodney continues. "It was like an evaluation, you know? I sat in the chair and he said I did good work most of the time, I wasn't such a waste after all…and then he got that look, and he said I was falling behind and that wasn't acceptable, but they understood that I had to be well to work properly and…they brought her in…this pretty little girl. She was all…dressed up. Jeannie had a dress like that when we were young…you know the kind? With the frills and the ribbons? Like, church clothes? Church clothes." Rodney is leaning into John, seeking shelter from the images running through his mind. He shouldn't have spoken of Jeannie. He sees her as she was, intermingling with the little girl that is no more.

John waits, his hand still on his friend's back, feeling it warm under his touch. He waits, does not interrupt. Rodney will tell this gruesome story at his own pace. They have plenty of time.

"She came in, a man was holding her hand. You should've seen her! She was smiling and…proud…as if…I don't know. I don't know kids ok? I just don't! I couldn't…I smiled back because she was so proud. I mean, you have to encourage that in kids, right? Pride in yourself and all that. Obviously, not too much or you end up with a bastard like me who gets them killed. Oh God! She won't need to be encouraged! She's just… She was all dressed up in her little dress! The man! He just…he broke her! He broke her!"

One tear breaks free from the containment of Rodney's left eye and is falling, slowly, gliding down his face, to stop its descent in the shadow of a beard. John pretends he doesn't see it, isn't even sure Rodney feels it. Sometimes life asks for more than one can give.

There is no sound but for Rodney's voice and harsh breathing. "The man that worked there, I guess…he was saying I wasn't productive enough and this was…my fault. I should be happy they weren't harming me…I did this, I killed her."

"You didn't. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have done anything more."

"I couldn't stop them! It happened so fast!" He turns to John, pleading. "One minute she was sitting there just…beaming! The next she's broken! He broke her! Just like that! Snapped her…snapped…snapped her neck! I didn't know what to do! I didn't have time to react!"

John wishes it had been him in there. He's seen many things that he managed to forget, managed to move past. Guilt and responsibility is something he leaves unacknowledged most of the time. Rodney feels everything; it cuts into him and settles there. There is nothing he can say to make it better, he can only be there. He repeats platitude, in the ridiculous hope that Rodney will accept them. "It's alright, it's going to be ok…"

"He said I'd be brought back if I couldn't do the work…"

Bastards, John wants to scream. Wants to run and fight each one of them for doing this to Rodney! Doing this to both of them! "It's not going to happen again. You have to think of the work, ok? You have to move past this!" John removes his hand from Rodney's back but stays close, their sides brushing. He hates himself for what he must do, but this is a perfect opportunity. He has to use this to assure himself Rodney will perform, will do what he has to do so this never happens again. He's appalled by what they have done, he's sorry a little girl had to die to help sadistic men make their point, but he'll use this to keep Rodney in line, because he has no other choice! "It wasn't your fault, but you have to work to prevent it from happening again. It's not your responsibility, you didn't do this, but you can't give up, alright?"

Large hands swipe moist blue eyes and Rodney nods. "Yeah…yeah, no I won't let them…I'll…"

"You'll sleep, that's what you'll do."

"Yeah."

The roles are reversed. When Rodney has put on his nightclothes, it's John who wait for him to get into bed, John who pulls the blanket over him, John who squeezes his shoulder as he says goodnight.

It's John who pretends he doesn't hear the whimpers.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes:**Beware the violent content. Hopefully, this will help clear up some of the confusion the unclear writing has created. Many references to Belief in this chapter, get your memory cap on :)

**Reflexion**

They pushed through the squish and settled within its core. They had made it back but Sheppard and McKay were not in the wall, as they should have been. They had left them here and now they were gone!

"Where are they?" Ronon turned to Mira in time to see the smile spread. He walked over to her and towered menacingly. "Where are they!"

She continued to smile and pointed at the space behind him. He turned and saw the screen, from which the images that had invaded his mind had come. He didn't want to watch their minds! He wanted to see _them_! "Where are they?"

"They have been taken further into the Pensey, for protection…"

"Protection?"

Lokas stepped in, as he had done many times before. "Mira, alert the Lopstack of our arrival."

She turned and smiled sweetly. "Oh, they know, they expected us and are quite eager to meet one as knowledgeable as you. They were unsatisfied with Oblee's explanations of the working of our world. It would be wise to go, they will not wait, will not stand for such rudeness."

Ronon watched them go, sickened. He couldn't believe this! It was insane! Teyla shouldn't have come! Who was to say they wouldn't simply take her and keep her this time! He watched her and saw tension mounting in her body. Puzzled, he looked at the memory screen. The vision that met him was one that would stay with him for too long a time.

"_YOU'RE NOT SORRY! YOU'RE NOT SORRY!"_

There were two different images. One depicting Sheppard and the other, McKay. One man watched the other. Ronon understood why the images had changed when they had left, understood what he was seeing and why he was seeing it, where it came from. Mira had explained it all.

The people that held them in the squish, the Lopstack, they had been allies of the Ancestors, had inhabited the galaxy before they had left their own. They were not human, but it seemed emotions were a thing of wonders for them, it fascinated them to no end, and thus they used humans to satisfy their hunger. John Sheppard and Rodney McKay were a goldmine, as they had discovered through Oblee's good help. As they continued to discover. Two minds so full of hurt, so full of creative ways to harm themselves. Watching the illusion John Sheppard's mind had created made him ache, made him want to rage and destroy. Why must everyone and everything make their lives difficult! Was not the threat of the Wraith enough!

The altered veil and Sanctas. The recalling of the six senses, the essence of Banee, Mira's perfect Sheppard morphology. It had all been them. The veil contained, from what Ronon could understand, minuscule robots that recorded their every thought and feeling, that influenced them to heighten those that existed, to provide the Lopstack with more fuel. Rodney and Teyla going so utterly feral had been mostly these people's doing. Even John's depressive mood whilst kept by Oblee had been theirs, through an altered version of a device known to Lokas. Everything they had gone through! These people's fault! They had done it on purpose to quench their thirst. The fire that wouldn't burn, Sheppard's dead body left with them for two weeks, it had all been them. A new arrangement with Oblee. Mira hadn't known, they had been meant to burn like all the others before them. Sheppard being the last piece of the Banee puzzle, the Lopstack had asked for a little extra, something to tide them over whilst Oblee discarded their primary source of emotions. That is how and why Teyla, Rodney and Ronon had been left in the veil, in seething anger, in utter despair. So non-humans could get a thrill, get to ride the roller coaster that was human life, human reaction _to _life.

Mira had taken them from their last mission, she had brought them here, thrown them to the hungry mob, left them in heartless clutches. She had continued Oblee's alliance! The terms were similar to what they had been, even though the Lopstack no longer had a steady supply from the people who carried Banee's essence. Had Sheppard stayed in the forest with his copies any longer, he would have been nothing more than an experiment, as he was now. They were less than thrilled with Ronon himself it seemed, and less attached to Teyla. They did not have the Ancestors' gene, he supposed that was why they had been allowed to leave. But Teyla had been in the squish, whilst he had not. He had not been wanted at all and, when he came to think of it, the veil had hardly affected him. He had not been angry. In fact, he had become quiet and somewhat unconcerned.

Still, the Lopstack had taken what belonged only to them, their minds, and were now using it against Sheppard and McKay. He came to stand beside Teyla and they watched in appalled silence as the screen showed the illusionary world in which the two men found themselves.

-------

That was one of John's stupidest decisions. Definitely.

_I'm sorry._

He'd only taken one step, said one word and this is what he has to contend with?

_I'm sorry._

All he'd said was: me. That was it! How could it lead to this?

_I'm sorry._

John supposes he would have the right to feel anger if he hadn't been used to _motivate_ Rodney, and if Rodney had not been visiting room seventeen for the ninth time since the little girl, the second time this week. Exposure has done nothing toward lessening the effect. John hadn't been told of them all, those that had died from what Rodney considered his failures. He knew of a man who wouldn't quit, a young man, an even younger woman, a pair of twins – a boy and girl – and a pregnant woman. A **pregnant** woman! Rodney had barely managed to hold it together and John was losing it, right now. There was nothing he could've done but that didn't change the end result.

They'd been told, at night, that they had not reached the quota and the next night he would have to walk home whilst Rodney was convinced his failings had killed those people. Walk home and wait for the husk of his best friend to walk through the door, with its slumped shoulders, sunken eyes and breaking voice. Rodney didn't have ghosts anymore, he had demons. They followed him everywhere and he believed everything they said.

Another stupid decision came into play here. He'd thought if he didn't push the issue, Rodney would come to him. He'd been a comforting presence, staying close, watching over him, waiting for the broken man to make the first move.

_I'm sorry._

"YOU'RE NOT SORRY! YOU'RE NOT SORRY" Stupidest decision ever. What John should have done was force Rodney to talk, every time he came back with that look in his eyes, every time John made his way back home on his own. What he should've done was tell Rodney that he had to hold on, not for the people who would be murdered in room seventeen, but for John. Because John needed him to be there! Because it made John strong to have Rodney here, to have someone who he could look after and who could look after him. "YOU'RE NOT SORRY! YOU WANTED THIS!"

John falls to his knees. He does not notice, only sees the sordid pendulum motion of Rodney's body going back and forth, back and forth, pushed by the draft from the open door. Rodney's body. Body!

John knows there's nothing to be done, even as he climbs on the chair and wrestles with the knot holding Rodney's mass above ground. He sees, smells, and feels death on Rodney's skin. He's lost him. Left behind, abandoned, alone.

The heavy body plunges to the ground, John is not strong enough to hold him, doesn't even have the sense to try. He watches from his perch on the chair as Rodney falls. John steps down and towers over his best friend's body. He arranges his limbs at comfortable looking angles, as if Rodney had simply fainted, as if he would wake so John could make fun of him. He steps back and knows why Rodney was so angry with him when he did his return from the dead impression. He knows because he's angry. He's so angry he can't even see straight. Oh, sure, he knows it's those useless tears that are blurring his vision, but he rather likes to blame it on anger.

Irrational anger brought on by Rodney's irrational behaviour.

"What the hell! What the hell! WHAT THE HELL, RODNEY!" He moves through the room, back and forth, back and forth, mimicking the pendulum his eyes followed a moment ago. "You are crazy! What do you think this is going to solve, huh? You're an asshole! A selfish bastard! A fucking selfish bastard! This! This is what you do! COWARD! DO YOU HEAR ME RODNEY MCKAY? YOU'RE A COWARD!"

He comes back, throwing his shadow over the scientist. "Forget what I said before! You're not brave, you're not a good man, you don't do as best as you can, you don't give it all!" His voice breaks, he doesn't hear it. His throat hurts from the shrill tones he's using, he doesn't feel it. "SELFISH BASTARD! I'm gone for one day and this…THIS IS WHAT YOU DO?"

What tears? There are no tears! John Sheppard will forever curse Rodney McKay! He is not crying, he does not feel like the world is suddenly spinning on a different axis, does not want to slump to the ground and never move again.

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT CHICKEN SHIT SELFISH BASTARDS! I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU!" He points an accusing finger at a man who will never see it, never answer with righteous indignation. "What the hell were you thinking you fucking idiot! I told you to hang on, HANG ON! THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT! Not what I meant! I told you we'd get home! I told you I was here! You don't give a damn, do you? You never did! Always you, you, you! SELFISH BASTARD!"

What tears? Oh, those tears. John Sheppard will forever prize Rodney McKay. He will praise him to the universe, to everyone who can hear. He is crying, the world has shifted with a great big lurch and he slumps to the floor, rocking himself back and forth, back and forth. Swinging, swinging, the motion that will forever haunt him. "Rod…" deep breath, it's not a sob, "…ney…"

-------

That was one of John's stupidest decisions. Definitely.

_I'm sorry._

He'd only taken one step, said one word and this is what he has to contend with?

_I'm sorry._

All he'd said was: me. That was it! How could it lead to this?

_I'm sorry._

Rodney supposes he should be angry, he should be afraid, he should be going out of his mind. He isn't, he's just numb.

"Rodney!"

He raises his eyes and sinks into quicksand of hazel. John's gaze is filled with an intensity that distracts him from the parting of skin under the pressure of a knife and the scarlet spill of life. There is nothing to do but watch; if he moves closer, they cut deeper; if he pleads louder, they cut longer.

He's lucky, so lucky to have known John Sheppard and so damn thankful for his friendship. Good, patient and tolerant is the man who can stand to be in Rodney's presence for more than five minutes before murderous tendencies start to appear. Rodney thinks it might be a good idea to say it, to tell John how he is Rodney's favourite person of the galaxy, of both galaxies he has inhabited. He opens his mouth, intent on his soul-baring plan, but as always his expression is a big tattle-tell.

"I don't want your apologies." John's voice is harsh.

"I wasn't –"

"No! I don't want your words! I'm not going anywhere so whatever you have to say, you can say it later!"

The man, currently slicing up the overly optimistic Colonel, chuckles and Rodney cannot blame him. A small bubble of stress-induced amusement rises up to meet the air and he lets it out in a high-pitched, hysterical burst of laughter. He isn't deluded, he knows John's on Death's wish list and Death is a greedy fellow. He expected this to happen much sooner, has even had some training in the art of mourning John Sheppard, and would consider himself truly worthy of his genius title if he had only listened to himself. Last time John died, he decided he should forget all about him, the man brought nothing but hurt and regrets. Oh, but the dead came back and didn't Rodney feel so damn lucky again? He tried to forget, to be colleagues, no more no less, but John had sought him out, pulled him back into Sheppardworld. Rodney likes Sheppardworld; it's filled with excitement and fun and is, surprisingly, a comfortable and secure place to be.

"Don't do this McKay! Don't you dare do this!"

Oooooh, the commanding voice, the use of last name to limit familiarity! It's really quite strong and imposing. Sadly, it doesn't work on the crazy people. He laughs again, a little burst of gaiety in an otherwise grimy room. Sticky room he thinks, blood is drip drip dripping to the floor, forming a slowly clotting puddle. Sticky and red against grimy and black.

"You don't get to do this! I swear Rodney, you break on me now, I'm going to make you pay for it!"

All this is terribly amusing, yes yes, terribly amusing. Hysterical! It's absolutely hysterical! Look at John, bare-chested, bare-footed, chained to the ground, knifepoint running down the length of his torso. It's obscene; the flesh that parts, slowly, painfully, the blood that spills slowly, languorously. Through it all he still attempts to boss Rodney around.

Rodney stands, gaze moving from quicksand to puddle, overwhelmed by random fits of giggles. He stands there for so long that when they order him to make his way home it is night. He sits on his cot and waits for John to be brought home. After some time he goes to fill the kettle, boils the water and fills the basin. John's injuries will have to be cleaned. He waits. The water turns cold so he pours it out, fills the kettle again, refills the basin and waits. Waits, waits and waits.

The sun's first rays stumble through the window and he watches them come closer until they are warm on his skin. Warm like the water was, hours ago. Warm like the blood that spilled forth, hours ago.

The rays do not warm him. He feels them as they dance upon his skin but they do not penetrate; he is cold, as if he had been the one to be drained at knifepoint. He predicted they would both die here, sooner than later, and the lack of Sheppard only proves him right. History has the bad habit of repeating itself in its worst condition. He has done this before, hating Sheppard as much as he missed him. It's déja vu of the worst kind. Separated from his team and filled with sorrow; oh yeah, Rodney knows all about it. This time, he doesn't have his city to cherish, he has nothing but a mind reading device that will not work anymore.

He feels dead. He must be dead. Of course, it doesn't matter for there is no life in the Pegasus Galaxy; it's the antechamber of Hell. It has once again helped him prove a theory which he holds to be true…Hell _is_ other people.

-------

Teyla was sitting beside Ronon, watching as the minds of her teammates played nasty games with them. She whispered, her eyes wide, her heart breaking, "This cannot go on. We must take them out or they will emerge broken in more pieces than we could ever hope to collect."

Ronon nods slowly, enthralled by the image of a man laughing himself to hysterics and another disentangling himself from sleep's enveloping arms only to wake beside the cold and lifeless body of his closest friend.


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks Angela! You're most wonderful!

**Notes: **It's become obvious that I am quite a horrible person, but at least the ending is all written, it simply needs to be tweaked and then will be sent your way! Many thanks for your patience and comments :)

**Interference**

Ronon's blood boiled. He watched the saddened man, the theatrically contrite Celebrant and tried to rein the urge to kill _kill_ **kill**. The last time he had allowed that urge to take over, it had not yielded such good results. How could they stand before them and offer apologies, tell them their friends would not be released, the Lopstack would not allow it.

Teyla's voice was calm, collected and cold. "If they will not release them, we will remove them."

Appalled, Mira spoke loudly. "Surely not! They are not yours to take!"

"They are no one's to take! They are free!"

Ronon had never heard Teyla shout in such a way before. He watched in surprise as she drew closer to Mira. "I do not want excuses! I will see them home safe, regardless of the Lopstack's need for them!"

"I would like to see you try!" Mira's cocky stance morphed into a hesitant shuffle when Teyla turned abruptly and walked to the edge of the squish.

"Very well! Ronon?"

Ronon's large hand settled around Mira's neck in a light hold. No unnecessary pressure was applied, the threat of what could come only implied. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "You've given me a reason." He remembered a similar scene and he could see, by the widening of her eyes, that her thoughts were following a similar path. The urge had broken free after all.

Lokas stepped forward and laid a hand on Ronon's arm. "There is no need for such behaviour, violence is not the answer. Please, there is another way."

The hand on Mira's delicate neck moved slightly as Ronon's interest shifted. "What?"

"They must resist. See the illusion, not the world they have constructed."

"How?" Ronon believed asking Lokas for help had not been the wisest choice, the man's logic centre was clearly non-existent; of course McKay and Sheppard needed to resist and see the illusion! What good did that do him at this time? None, that's what! A useless piece of information.

"They must be made aware. A focused mind could show them, present a flaw in the carefully crafted hell in which they find themselves."

All eyes turned to the two separate images that continued to broadcast the results of long-hidden fears and preoccupation. Teyla's hand hovered inches from the squish. "I can do this…" This is why Ronon had pulled her out, brought her home with him. Years of working her mind, of controlling it, moulding it, shaping it into a strong tool were going to be rewarded.

"No! You'll be stuck in there too." I'll be left alone to mourn this time, was what Ronon did not voice, though the softening of Teyla's feature told him she understood.

"Pain will keep her conscious of reality." Lokas was afraid his solution would harm Miss Emmagan more than was necessary, but something needed to be done.

"No." Ronon would not allow this, would not send her back in there, force her to be hurt.

Lokas raised his hand in a plea for silence. "I have a certain understanding of the workings of the Pensey, as does Mira." He looked at the woman sternly, the hard glint in his eyes promising dire retribution. "We can attempt to reach Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay."

"Won't the Lopstack stop us?"

Mira spoke quietly, "They are not corporeal beings, have reach into this world only through the Pensey and its effects."

Ronon looked at Teyla's small form. "It will hurt you."

Teyla drew closer to Ronon, laying a reassuring hand upon his arm. "There is no other way. I can do this Ronon, trust in me."

"I do, but –"

"It is harming them far more than it could harm me. We must at least try to stop this." Her eyes swivelled to the screen that showed John lying on his cot, wide eyes watching the one opposite. Rodney's body occupied it, no one had come to fetch him. The other image showed Rodney's unrelenting drive. His mind would not allow him to give up, to stop the illusion and stay in the room. He worked.

Ronon nodded, his eyes fixed on the image.

Lokas and Teyla took time to prepare, to relax and allow her mind to open and move under her control. Silence was filled with deep breaths and the rustle of cloth. When she felt she was ready, she took Ronon's hand and pushed herself into the squish as Lokas' hand rested over the Jell-O-like substance, in contact but never breaking the surface.

Pain exploded in Ronon's head and it was all he could do to avoid wrenching Teyla out. It rolled like waves over him, within him, unrelenting in their pursuit. The feeling eventually receded slightly, or he grew accustomed to it, and he was able to see Lokas, standing beside him, eyes fixed on the screens. He followed his gaze and saw Teyla walking cautiously into John's room.

"_John?"_

_His gaze never leaves the cot opposite. She draws closer and crouches beside him. He lies on his stomach, his head on the pillow, one arm hanging over the side, the hand resting on the cold floor. _

"_John."_

_He doesn't seem to see her at all, though he responds. "Rodney's dead."_

"_No, it is not real. Rodney is alive but he needs your help."_

"_I can't help him, I couldn't help him and he…he'd rather die than stay here with me because I couldn't help him."_

Teyla gasped, in reality as well as illusion and Ronon jerked her out of the squish a little bit more, pulling her hand to his chest, cradling it between his own.

_She lays a hand on John's cheek, stroking softly, knowing she cannot stay here much longer, feeling John's skin under her hand _just as sure as shefelt Ronon's under her palm. Pain flowed through her and she _feels it sizzle. _

"_You must listen, John, you must trust me. You know Rodney would never commit such an act, we would never leave you behind and Ford…he is no longer with us, you know we lost him when we found Ronon. Please John, you know this."_

She hurried, feeling Ronon's grip lessen, believing it was not his grip but her perception of reality that was fading. Her mind was strong, but not strong enough.

"_I saw him hanging. I see him. Look, he's there, look under the sheet, look!"_

"_He is not! It is only you who sees him! It is not real John! Please, please believe me! Trust in yourself, you know he would not do this, you know Rodney would never leave you! You know him!"_

"_I see him."_

"_You fool yourself into seeing him, but he is not truly there. Find him John, find him and come back to us. He would never leave you in such a way!"_

She screamed, in illusion and reality, the pain becoming unbearable, the men charged with her safety unable to protect her, to take it upon themselves. Pain ravaged Ronon and Lokas' bodies as surely as it did Teyla's.

"_I don't –"_

"_Not real! It is not real! Fight it. You and Rodney are in the squish. Please remember, you must remember."_

"_Rodney's dead…" _

"_NO! He is alive…believe me John, please. Find him and get out!"_

Ronon could not take much more of her pain, his pain, their pain. He watched the image, saw confusion written all over John's features and decided that he trusted the man to understand even with the limited information Teyla has been able to provide. He pulled her out of the squish and lowered her to the floor as she took in a few lungful of air.

"You okay?"

"My head is pounding."

Lokas approached with a smile. "Yes, I would expect it to. You did extremely well Miss Emmagen, your mind is stronger than you ever believed."

"I was unable to say all I needed to say, I do not think it will be enough. I should return."

"No, dear girl, you must rest now. The Pensey has taken much from you."

"I must reach Rodney."

"Not now, allow Colonel Sheppard to fight. Trust in him, trust that he will trust in you."

They sat and watched, desperately hoping that John would be strong enough to rise over his mind's tricks. When Teyla fell asleep, a frown marring her beautiful features, Ronon enquired about Lokas' knowledge of the Pensey.

"I am afraid my sister had been dealing with the Lopstack for many years and has acquired quite a collection of devices, most of them used to befuddle the mind. I am surprised by its resemblance to the Sancta, but satisfied for it reacted as I thought it would to outside interference."

"Anything more you could think of that would help?"

"I do not believe so, though I have searched and will continue to do so."

"Anything more you can tell me about what you do know?"

"No, some of my world's secrets and knowledge are better left in their proper place." He tapped his temple.

Ronon nodded and returned his gaze to the images. John had not moved and Rodney continued to work.


	15. Chapter 15

**Exchange**

John wakes from a ray of light hitting his eyelids. The first thing he sees is Rodney's body. He shuts his eyes again as a spike of loss takes him over.

He remembers dreaming of Teyla. She gave him an out, one he would really like to take, but madness lies that way. A nutjob he will not allow himself to be, so he forces his eyes open and fixes them on the scientist-shaped lump he hid under the sheet. Was that just yesterday? No, no it wasn't, it was the day before.

He pushes himself into a sitting position and his feet hit the floor; a shock of cold goes up his legs to his torso, detours through his heart and stops in his head. He's so cold, so damn cold all over. He can't warm up. He's alone and cold and that's all he's ever been isn't it? Ever since his mother left him, ever since she did just what Rodney did. Why is it that the people he loves never love him enough to stay? Why is he always left behind to deal with the cold yet searing sword of grief?

He stands, still in his quest to avoid insanity. The cot is occupied and he knows what he'll find but he still has to see, because in his dream Teyla said things which were true. Ford and Ronon were never on the team together. He knows it, but he also sees Rodney. He takes the few steps that separate him from the other cot and sinks to his knees when he reaches it. He extends a hand, grabs the edge of the sheet and pulls it off Rodney's passive face. The lips are still tinted with blue; his skin is much too pale, just as it was when John found him. John frowns. He's seen bodies that have been dead for more than a day; they never look this…alive.

He runs a finger over Rodney's forehead; it isn't as cold as he would expect. Teyla's speech rolls around in his head. He sees her, turning her back on them, going up the hill to the gate. He sees Ronon doing the same, Ford following after an apologetic smile. Ford. Ronon. Teyla. It's not right, Ford shouldn't be there. Ford…

He winces as his headache intensifies. "You idiot, now's not the time to go crazy." The sheet outlines the sharp slope of Rodney's nose as it settles over his face with a soft rustle.

He goes back to his cot and resumes his one-sided staring contest as well as his one-sided conversation.

"I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry I was too stupid to tell you…this friendship business, I haven't been good at it since I was a kid, you know? You grow up and you lose the ability to love people…or you don't think you need to anymore. I'm an idiot. You're the best goddamn friend I've had in a long time Rodney, and I just let you go because I couldn't say that."

He doesn't realise that this behaviour makes him just as insane as the hope he refuses to acknowledge would.

--- ----

"Where is Colonel Sheppard?"

"How many today Doctor McKay?"

"Where is Colonel Sheppard?"

"You will answer me or you will be sent to room seventeen."

His shoulders slump and his questions cease. He doesn't really want to know what happened to John, doesn't want the details.

"How many?"

"Ten."

"I asked for twelve."

"You keep increasing the number and I keep telling you I can't do more!"

"You have no choice in the matter!"

So it is that Rodney finds himself in room seventeen night after night, witnessing murderous hands as they break, rip and cut until there is no life left. He is responsible for so much death, he doesn't think he could handle it if he didn't have hope. He knows something his slave drivers do not. He has unearthed their secret, he simply doesn't know what to do with it, what to do about it.

After he has seen a little boy meet his Maker, after he has walked home, has had his breakdown, has wished to die as well, he sits on his cot and takes the precious device in his hand. He lies on his back and concentrates on a foolish American pilot.

He hears it. Hears the voice, hears the crazy thoughts and tries to understand how it is that John believes he is dead, that John mourns him whilst he is very much alive. Hopes that tonight John will think of his situation, where he is, what he is doing so Rodney can find him.

He strokes the device, so thankful for the lightness it brings to his day. John's voice echoes through his head and even though what he hears concerns him, he could never stop. He drops unashamedly in John's mind every night, enjoying the man's continued life. He hears the pleas for his return, the hateful words that are hurled his way only to be soothed by praises and apologies. He discovers himself through John's eyes and it warms him to the core. He has a friend in the cocky obnoxiousness that is the Colonel, a good friend indeed.

"I'm here John. I told you I'd figure it out and I will. I'll get you out! I'll get the both of us out!"

John's voice is the only one he hears, as if John was the only person alive on this entire world. Aside from Teyla, she was here, he heard her for a very brief moment. She said many things which made sense and are now running through John's mind as well as his own. Ronon and Ford together on a mission truly doesn't add up and even though he knows it would be so easy to leave him behind, to be done with his atrocious personality, he trusts in Teyla; she's a good woman, an honourable leader and friend.

"I'll figure it out, don't worry." His finger runs over the grooves that run the length of the device and he lets John's thoughts lull him to sleep, like a mother's lullaby, finding comfort where he can.

--- ----

Days later in Rodney and John's world, though only hours in the reality that is Teyla and Ronon's, the scientist does as promised.

Ronon held Teyla's hand tightly; she gave him one last look before pushing herself in the squish. Lokas had insisted that she would need to speak quickly for it was unwise for her to find herself between the conscious and unconscious world for too long. Both men watched as once again, Teyla appeared on the screen.

"_Rodney?"_

_He holds the device closely to him. He knew she was near, he heard her in his head, what she thought. She thought of him, thinks of him now and he feels her relief before it is overshadowed by dismay._

"_It is an illusion…the squi –," is all she manages to say before a scream takes over and she is gone. It doesn't matter, he heard her and remembers the squish, the bizarre yet fascinating Jell-O walls. _

Her body was pulled out and she crumbled to the ground, only to be stopped by Ronon's arms wrapping around her and allowing her a gentler fall. She believed she had done enough, hoped Rodney would be as resourceful as he usually was and gave in to the pull of darkness.

"Teyla!"

Ronon set her gently on the ground, supporting her neck with one hand. He was forced to take her into his arms when the squish moved to mould itself to her foot. The resonant voice that had not been heard since their return had thoughts to share on their endeavour. "You are not to make another attempt! You must not interfere! Lady Celebrant, we have informed you of our decision! Do not force us to harm you and your companions!"

"What do you want from them?" Ronon wanted answers.

"Mister Dex, we will allow you to return to your home and you will never come here again!"

"I can't do that." He was not leaving his teammates again. He would only walk through the even horizon if he was doing it after them.

"It is not a matter of your ability to do so Mister Dex. You will leave, we have no need for you nor Miss Emmagen."

"Why! Why them and not us?"

"We have enough data to permit us to forego what Miss Emmagan could provide and you do not respond to the Pensey. We truly have no desire to do harm and would be grateful for your cooperation."

"You are doing harm! You're harming them right now!" He points needlessly to the image. John, sitting on his cot hour after hour, eyes lost and Rodney who has become obsessed with the mind-reading device and strokes it incessantly.

"They are safe, as they will remain. Unhealthy subjects are naught but a waste!"

"Subjects! They are not subjects, they are men!"

"They are both and no longer your concern! You will cease!"

"I will not!" Ronon roared as he slung Teyla over his shoulder and took out his weapon in one not so graceful manoeuvre that nearly toppled him to the ground. He took aim and fired into the squish, wanting to cause damage to this infuriating world. It melted away in a satisfying and highly surprising way. "I want answers!" He shot again and the squish hollowed itself around the pulse from his weapon. He shot repeatedly, enjoying the effect almost as he would were he shooting at Wraith.

The voice was strident and agitated. "Stop! Stop it at once!"

A shot punctuated each word. "No! I. Want. Answers. Now!" The squish moulded itself to his feet and a certain amount of pain was felt but not as much as he had experienced whilst dislodging Teyla. He smirked and continued shooting.

"Lady Celebrant! Stop him! Stop him or our alliance will be terminated."

His arm made an arc in the air as his weapon flipped in a fluid motion. A haze of red hit Mira who collapsed to the ground with a startled squeak. He flipped his weapon once more, from stun back to kill and continued shooting. He shifted Teyla higher and **shot** with great pleasure, the squish receding, hollowing, rippling under the reddish assault.

"Mister Dex! You must stop! We have no desire to harm you."

"You cannot harm me or you would've already." One Jell-O shot, two Jell-O shots, three Jell-O shots; not the fun and refreshing Earth kind either. The squish that held him receded, he was free to move again.

"If answers are what you need to make you desist on your destruction, then we shall oblige, if only to save us the effort of attempting to forcibly prevent you from continuing on your path of destruction."

"Good. Why are you doing this?" One more shot, to clearly communicate his message.

"It is an experiment."

"Why them, us?"

"They responded quite well to the Pensey. They were the greatest specimen Oblee had provided. We believe they will help us make great progress."

"What are you doing with the memories and hallucination?"

"Observing."

"Why!"

"You must understand, like Doctor McKay, we seek knowledge. It has been many years since we have had such a strong response. Not since the Lanteans have we collected data with such ease."

"Lanteans. You have experimented on the Ancestors!" Lokas had questions of his own.

"Yes. We encountered them when first development of the Pensey was put forth. We had some difficulties which aggravated them."

"Difficulties such as?"

"The Pensey killed our first subjects and as the ones we had found where those that had been brought by the Lanteans to our world, they were none too pleased. We were fortunate that they offered their help."

"How did it kill them! How is it not harmful now?" Lokas was outraged and despite the situation, it was quite amusing to see the serene man so worked up.

"The Pensey brought fear to the subjects but proceeded to cut into their cerebral cortex. It jeopardised our research, for the subjects were no longer available for study and the field of emotion communicated was restricted. It is our understanding that Doctor McKay encountered the previous evolution of the Pensey."

Another screen appeared before Ronon and he was once again faced with McKay communicating his last thoughts, speaking of a sister, saved children and a theory of unification.

"We believe it is the evolutionary advances, or regression if one was to term it correctly, that allows both Doctor McKay and Colonel Sheppard to respond so well to the Pensey and we promise you they will be safe whilst within its confine."

"Not good enough!" Ronon shot and shot and shot again. The squish melted away, leaving great gaping holes.

"Stop!" Lokas pleaded as the voice had earlier. He spoke not to Ronon, but to an unseen listener. "Perhaps we can help, perhaps we can offer you willing subjects that would do well in the Pensey and allow you to free Doctor McKay and Colonel Sheppard!"

The voice of the Lopstack was loud and agitated. "We will not be fooled!"

"I will not attempt to fool you! I am certain we can reach an agreement, we can form a new alliance and you can free these young people!" Lokas turned to Mira. "Jusyta."

She nodded, understanding Lokas' intent. "Yes, he might be interested." She spoke louder, to the Lopstack. "Allow me to bring another to your world."

Ronon thought the Lopstacks were indeed fools to agree, but was grateful they did. He stopped shooting at the squish and sat on the ground, Teyla resting against him, Lokas sitting by his side. Ronon learned of Jusyta, the young man who would soon be severed and Lokas' feelings on the subject. It seemed severance was not his punishment of choice and if he could prevent the event from occurring whilst freeing innocents, all the better. He wished for his world to change certain laws, for they were not in accordance with their lives, had not been for many decades.

Ronon allowed Lokas to take charge. He had retuned Sheppard to them once and seemed intent on accomplishing that specific task again. They waited for Mira to return with Jusyta, sitting together, watching images of Sheppard and McKay making good use of Teyla's visit.


	16. Chapter 16

Hey, Angela! Not dead yet:) That's one tough cookie!

**Notes: **I swear it's all finished! I shamefacedly swear, it just needs tweaking! Oh man, I'll grovel if you want! Really!

SPOILER, somewhat but not really since it's not a secret anymore, for Grace Under Pressure. If you know nothing of the episode, and I do mean _nothing, _not even the basic plot, don't proceed.

WARNING, bad words. Tsk, men... :)

**Relevant**

Rodney sighs in relief when he opens the door to his room and sees he's gained a roommate. "John." Finally, after so much effort spent on willing him to be there, he is.

Sitting on the bed, his eyes fixed on the opposite cot, John thinks this is it, he's gone crazy.

"John?"

Completely, utterly, one flew over the cuckoo's nest and is never ever coming back.

"John!"

He figures he might as well play along, do the insane thing right and answer the voice. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"I don't think so." John jumps, startled, when the cot dips. He turns his head slowly, wary of what he will find. The movement was not a trick of the light; Rodney _was_ standing near the door and is now sitting right beside John, leaving a few inches between them. This going bonko thing sure is realistic; he can feel the heat emanating from the scientist, smell his presence in the air, hear his breathing. His gaze plunges in waves of blue that are hopeful yet concerned. "Rodney?" He's rewarded with the silly little wave and the tight smile that is a staple of the McKay greeting. "Damn." John sighs and sits back against the wall, closed eyes effectively blocking out the world. "Do you think you can come back later? I don't want to be insane today. How's tomorrow, noon-ish?"

"I don't think you can escape insanity John, it's in your DNA." Rodney brushes away the comment as if he hasn't insulted John and his lineage. "I've been listening to you, with the device, the, um, the mind-reading one." He holds his hand up to prevent John from interrupting, which he wasn't even contemplating. "It was just to prove a theory, and then I had to find you, which I did so, you shouldn't get mad I was eavesdropping since it was for your own good." Rodney waits for an answer but it doesn't come. He reaches out and pokes his friend's shoulder. "Hey, are you listening?"

John's eyes leave the opposite cot and its dead Rodney to focus on the live one. He doesn't know how long they sit, simply staring, but it feels like a long sluggish time before his mind settles and he digs up the strength to reach out. His fingers slide against the warm skin of an arm, his thumb almost meeting his index finger when his hand wraps around a wrist. He moves his fingers until he feels a steady pulse and squeezes. There is a small popping sound, a bone falling into place and he figures he's either a very creative crazy man or…there is no or, he is creative.

"I've gone completely nuts." It looks like Rodney, smells like Rodney, feels like Rodney but once again, it isn't. "I really have. First Teyla and now you."

"I saw Teyla too, but she didn't stay long."

"No."

"She did give me an idea! The device," he says, waving it in the air, "doesn't work on anyone but us. First, I thought it had to do with the gene, but it doesn't. I tested it on that man who has it, they sent him to me after…well, after you weren't…um…available anymore." He is silent for only a second before the words tumble out again. "Yes well, the ugly guy with the gene and the disgusting the mole. I don't think he even knows how –"

"Rodney!" John has to wonder why he's doing this to himself; make-believe Rodney is just as annoying as the real one was. He supposes his subconscious knows he wouldn't have it any other way. All the creativity in the world could never lead one to dream up McKay, he's just so…unbelievable!

"Right, right. It didn't work on the mole man either. It didn't work on anyone but you, Teyla, and me. It was obviously not the gene, as proven by moleman and Teyla which led me to wonder what it was and I came to the conclusion that it's because we're the only ones who have minds."

Oh yeah, the elevator doesn't go to the top in make-believe Rodney either. "We are?" Humouring the lunatics is always a good idea.

"It's obvious! There's no one here but us. I can't hear anyone but you. I heard Teyla twice, but mostly I heard you. Teyla said illusion and then she was gone and once I had accepted the supposition that this world is in fact a fake, I found you! I tried for hours to, uh, connect with you and it worked!"

"Connect?"

"Yeah! I knew you were still here because I was hearing you through the device, which needs a name by the way, we can't keep calling it the device…but it makes sense. Ford and Ronon, the people with no thoughts, and how we went from the squish to this. You remember the squish right?"

"Yeah…" Oh, insane Rodney sure is on to something.

"So, this is just not possible, I don't remember getting home from there, certainly don't remember Ford coming back and here we are, traded to slavery and while the dying part, for you, is quite believable, I just can't –"

"Will you let it go!" That's enough! He will not endure another one of those digs! It wasn't his fault and it isn't as if he hasn't suffered as well! Damn McKay and his grudges!

Rodney frowns, displeased at being stopped mid rant. "What?"

"With the dying shit! Let it go already! It's not like I do it on purpose! Not like I enjoy it!"

"You do too!"

"I do not, and even if I did, it's my job! That's the reason I'm here!"

"It is not! You're the genetic boy-wonder, that's why you're here!"

"Fine, that may be, but it's still my job!"

"Doesn't mean I have to like it!"

"No, but you could give me a damn break! I don't like it either! All the existential crap! I'm stuck with it! The meaning of life and what the hell I'm actually doing here, it doesn't just go away! You learn you're just a piece of some guy and you have to be turned into mush so he can live again or something and see how you like it when you come back and I hold it over you like some…"John breathes in deeply, attempting to regain some semblance of calm. It doesn't work. "I can't believe this! You piss me off McKay! You arrogant bastard! You think I've been having fun here, enjoying the near-deaths every second week! Fucking Stargate! Fucking SGC! FUCK YOU MCKAY! You know how you said your hallucinated Carter sucked? Same here! You suck! YOU are the worst hallucination ever! Go the hell away!"

"First, I am not a hallucination! Well…not really! My mind is projecting me for you, you're not projecting me. Second, if I was, I would _so_ not be the worst one ever and third, don't you dare ask me for a break! I will not give you a break! If I let it go, you'll take that as positive reinforcement and do it again! Next time, it might be you'll slip between a bullet and me and I won't have that? Got it? I am not doing this again! I don't care about your existential crap! It's all bullshit anyways! Who cares about the meaning of life and why you're here! Answer's forty-two and nobody cares why you're here, just as long as you fucking are! Happy now? Can we please get on with it?"

John lets his head rest against the wall and closes his eyes. The thought that he is arguing with a figment of his imagination is more then he can bear. "Christ Rodney!"

"What?"

"You're a thorn in my side and a pain in my ass! Seriously, I don't want to be crazy today. Will you please just go away!"

"You've said that already and, no, I am not going away after I spent hours trying to find you!"

"You shouldn't have bothered!"

"Don't be stupid!"

"I'm not! I just can't do this! I'm trying to hold it together and you're screwing me over!"

"I don't see how my being here is worst! I understand I'm not the most pleasant person but I'd think you of all people would appreciate this!"

"It's not about how pleasant you are, it's about…" Back comes frustration. "Look! What do you want from me? An apology? Is that why you're here suddenly, for the guilt? Fine! I'm sorry! I'm fucking sorry I didn't know what to do! I didn't know what the hell to tell you because we don't talk about it. God-awful shit happens and life just goes on. Alright? That's how it works!"

"I know that…"

"No! That's just it! You don't know! You didn't come here for this! You're a scientist Rodney, you're not supposed to have to deal with that kind of stuff! You don't know the rules, you can't –."

"I know your damn rules, but it doesn't matter, none of it happened. It's not real…"

"How can you say that?" He walks over to the cot that is not his and wrenches the sheet away. Rodney's body still seems so alive, it's messing with his mind. "Look!" He points to the cot.

"There's nothing there." Rodney's concern is growing exponentially. John's face betrays the agitation he feels as well as the words echoing through Rodney's mind; anguish, disbelief and hope come through loud and clear, pushed into him by the device.

"There is! Look! Look!"

"I'm looking…there's nothing there. I swear John, whatever you see, it's not there."

"It's you! I put you there! I fucking cut you down and put you there!"

"It's not real. Listen to me, it's not real. _I'm_ real."

"Fuck, Rodney, I'm sorry." He runs a hand through his hair. He's tired, so tired of this life he has to lead while everyone around him dies. Close-calls are nothing compared to the agony of being left behind, trying to forget.

"Nothing to be sorry about…nothing at all. You need to trust me on this, it's not real, there's nothing there."

John looks over at the cot, then at the live Rodney inching his way toward him. The dead, the living, the dead, the living. He lets the sheet fall back into place; if he's going to be crazy, he'd rather do it with a live best friend! "Ok."

"Ok?"

"I trust you on this."

This easy capitulation takes Rodney by surprise, but he quickly regains his footing. "Right…right! Well, ok, thank you. Now all we need is a plan."

"For what?"

"To get away from here!"

John reflects on the idea. "Might I suggest the gate?"

"Uh…" A dumbfounded Rodney is a rare treat. "Yes, yes, that might work. We can…yeah, sure! The gate! Let's go then!"

"What! Now?"

"Yes now! You want to wait until the virgin sacrifice by the light of a full moon!"

"No, I just think I might need some time to move past the insanity factor before we go charging through the countryside. It's nice, really nice to see you and all but I've done this before you know? I went batshit a few years back and it wasn't that much fun so I'd rather avoid it this time 'round. I'll just take a minute."

Rodney sighs and sits down beside him once more. "You're not crazy. You're a moron, but you're not crazy. Not now anyway. Just…trust me. I know it didn't turn all that good last time, but…there's no weapons involved so maybe…maybe you can?"

"I don't think you're getting it Rodney. I do trust you and I'm glad you're here. The problem is, you're dead. You came home that night and hanged yourself. I cut you down, put you on that cot. You were just…hanging…" John lifts his hand and mimics the swinging motion he will always remember.

"That's…disturbing…but I think you're the one who's not getting it. Obviously, I'm not dead as I'm able to do this," Rodney grabs the skin on the underside of John's upper arm between two fingers and squeezes as he twists it.

"OW! What the hell!"

The grin is smug. "See, dead people can't do that to you. Also, how can you think for a minute that I would kill myself? Have you met me? Would I deprive the world of me? It'd be such a waste!"

"What if I am crazy?"

"So? How are you going to know? Would you rather stay here alone or have my charming self to entertain you? You just said you trusted me, prove it!"

John thinks it through and reaches his earlier conclusion: better to be crazy with Rodney than alone. "Fine, fine." He breathes in deeply, ready to take the psychotic plunge. "The gate?"

"Yeah, let's blow this joint."

John lets out a small huffing laugh and shakes his head. "You can't carry that Rodney, you really can't." He follows his vocally indignant scientist with a renewed bounce to his step. Regardless of what is to come, he'll enjoy this break from horrid reality.


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you Master :)

**Notes: **Hey! Only one chapter to go! Woohoo! Thanks a bunch you guys :)

Warning: bad words...again.

**Variation**

Mira returned with news of Jusyta's imminent arrival and everything was righted. Lokas claimed he had managed to convince the Lopstack to take the man, Jusyta, and others that would come after in exchange for Sheppard and McKay. Just like that, their problems were no more and they were free to return home, provided the rest of their team made it out of the squish.

"Letting them go?" Teyla, who had woken as Sheppard and McKay started their trek to the gate, was sceptical.

Lokas' smile was so wide, it must've stretched his skin painfully. He nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! The severance will no longer be necessary and your companions will be released!"

Utterly unconvinced, Ronon couldn't find it in himself to believe. Neither could Teyla, for she voiced the question that had formed in his mind. "A simple discussion managed to convince them?"

"No, it was a lengthy debate, but the argument on our part was most reasonable and satisfactory."

"How is that possible? Have they not said that Doctor McKay and Colonel Sheppard were the best subjects they had seen in many years?"

"Yes, but they recognise that a constant supply of willing subjects is much more to their advantage."

"You would allow them to use your people?" Teyla said, unable to doubt Lokas' sincerity but knowing she could never allow her people to be forced onto this world, into that infernal Pensey.

Lokas shook his head, his face losing the beaming quality that had been brought upon by the perceived joyous news. "You have seen what the results of a severance can be, Miss Emmagan. Granted, situations such as the one that arose from Oblee's loss of sense are as rare as green sky, but one occurrence of such a thing is one too many."

Ronon could see how living in your own mind would be preferable to living in many others. Had he the choice...he would chose neither of course, but was he forced, would he want his essence, his soul, to be sent away and left in the cares of others? Certainly not. He would rather see his mind be opened and explored as opposed to his soul split and made to find its way back to him. Indeed, the Lopstack were a lesser threat than Oblee had been. After all, death had never been an issue, not truly, not for McKay and Sheppard. There had only been the threat of a false life, a never-ending nightmare.

Teyla nodded after a brief reflexion. "We are fortunate to have encountered you and your people, Lokas."

A sad smile crossed Lokas' mouth. "You are too kind. Had you not encountered Oblee, you would have avoided many days of heartache...that are still continuing, if I am not mistaken." He pointed to the screen where Sheppard and McKay walked up the hill, hurtling venom-coated words at each other.

Teyla listened for some time before returning her attention to their apparent saviour. "It has been a difficult time for us all, but I believe the remaining problems we are facing are of our own doing." She looked at Ronon who nodded. "It will be resolved now that we have seen the errors in our actions."

Lokas nodded knowingly. "An open mind leads to an open heart," he said, his gaze resting on the image of Colonel Sheppard attempting to talk, or shout, some sense in a very stubborn man. Lokas had been more than impressed with John Sheppard; he was quite a remarkable man. It was surely a blessing from the Ancestors that had kept him alive.

Though Lokas' grief for the loss of his sister had barely lifted, he had no choice but to recognise she had been lost the day Banee was severed. Finding these new allies, this new arrangement, made the events leading to her demise that much easier to bear. Such a thing would never occur again; severance was a barbaric practice which they would soon leave behind, if all went according to plan. The High House would surely see this was the best course of action, a natural progression from archaic laws that left many in discontent to new ways that would not only benefit their people, but those on two different worlds: Atlantis and the one presently under their feet. He was taken out of his thoughts by a loud exclamation.

"They are fighting!" Teyla stood next to Ronon and watched in dismay as John Sheppard threw Rodney McKay to the ground.

--- ---

"HEY!" Rodney stands and pushes John right back.

Push turns to shove as two grown men turn into children.

"Bastard!"

Shove

"Stop it!"

Shove.

"No!"

Shove. Shove. Shove. That is how a Colonel cracks.

"Stop it!" Speaking through gritted teeth, Rodney turns, intent on ignoring the bully's childish ways, allowing John to send him plummeting to the ground. His nose meets a small rock and a warm trickle of blood drips down. "OW!" He moves to a sitting position, a hand gingerly touching his nose, glaring at the Colonel.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Infuriated, John won't let himself care about the wounded look he sees hidden behind the glare.

"ME! What's the matter with you? You don't attack people and insult them without a reason!"

"You don't make fun of people because they're having a hard time dealing with your sudden resurrection! For fuck's sake! You _killed yourself!_ I've been watching your corpse for days! Now you're back, telling me some coq and bull story about this," he spreads his arms wide, indicating all that surrounds them, "being fake. There are people, Rodney! Guards! They're following us! Want to tell me what the hell is really going on?"

Blue eyes widen and John can see that, finally, the continuing trauma of the past few days registers in Rodney's overcrowded mind. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh!" Such a small, insignificant word, yet it manages to lower John's boiling rage to a simmer.

"Well, guards, yes…" Rodney says, latching on to the safest part of the verbal attack that made him a victim. "Of course you would project guards, it's in your nature to be complicated, but points for thoroughness because I haven't seen anyone in a day or so…" He looks at the ground, nearly digging the toe of his boot in the dirt and blushing furiously, like a boy sharing secrets with his buddy. "And I can see how what you've…" he makes a vague circular motion with his hand, "…experienced, might lead one to be…uh…distraught?"

"Distraught," John confirms. Looking at Rodney, who is still poking at his nose, somehow reminds him that this is some kind of miracle and he really shouldn't ruin it. This whole thing must be good for Rodney's ego; resurrections and miracles taking him further along the god-like path he has set for himself. Not that John will bring it up, of course, must not feed the beast, as they say. He reaches out to pull Rodney's hand away, not overly concerned about the guards because Rodney is remarkably unbothered. John doesn't care about the how and the why at this time. "Let me see."

Rodney takes a step back. "No, it's fine. Now if you'll only believe me, you'll be able to control your environment, apparently you're good at that, Mister I go to Earth and have a party. I had to cancel a date, you know, for work. I cancelled a date…for work." His face falls comically, as he suddenly realises what he did to himself. He is somewhat like a child dropping his ice cream cone; left with disappointment, disbelief and the cruelty of the world.

With his patient air and his patient voice, John is pretty sure he can obtain anything, even from a McKay who has gone on a tangent and is not really paying attention to anything but the overwhelming bitterness of a ruined date. "I'm not going to hurt you. Come on, temper got the better of me. You can relate, can't you?" He serves Rodney his patented infuriating grin.

Rodney huffs without conviction. "It's still not a reason to push me! I don't push people!" He allows John to look at his nose, even if he knows there's nothing wrong with it. Sometimes it's nice to be fussed over.

"It is, and you do. You're an aggravating man, McKay."

"Nobody asked you to –"

John holds a hand up to stop the river of words he feels rushing his way. "But aggravation's a small price to pay." It is said with a careless tone and a shrug as John turns back toward the gate. "Come on, you're fine, let's get home. Assuming you're right about this." He can only hope that Rodney is indeed right. If all of this has been a hallucination, then his mind is a sick and twisted place, more so than he believed.

Pleased by the underlying affection, Rodney smilingly follows, insults and shoves neatly forgotten.

That is when their luck runs out.

More precisely, the Pensey overrides Rodney's will and listens to John's underlying fears. Three men jump out from beyond the hill that holds the gate and scream ridiculously loud. "Chaaaaarge."

"What the hell are they doing? You're not supposed to be here! Go away! GO AWAY!" Rodney makes little shooing motions, believing with all his might that if he just wishes it so, they will recognize his less than manly reaction as a serious threat.

John grabs the back of Rodney's shirt and pulls him away. They take off at a run, Rodney missing a step and tumbling down the hill. The hand still holding Rodney's shirt forces John to follow. They roll to the bottom and end up on their backs, looking up at a…thing.

"Rodney?"

"Yes John?" is the eerily calm reply.

"What's that?" John watches the amorphous green being move and realises he has seen it before. He is being confronted by the Blob, and it makes a strange sort of sense; his life _has_ been a science-fiction movie for more than two years.

"This isn't happening, this isn't happening. It's you, isn't it? You didn't believe me and you did this!" Rodney sits up and points an accusing finger at John.

"I didn't do anything!"

"You must've, because I know for a fact there isn't anything here. We're in the squish, this is all in our minds and I didn't think any of this up! What did you do? And is that the **BLOB**!"

John sits up as well, his eyes fixed on the Blob. "I might've thought this was too easy," he says, as the guards approach and step right through the green sentient goo, _coming out completely unscathed. _Not really the Blob then, and isn't that a relief!

"Too easy! Too easy! Are you kidding me! What's been easy about this, uh? The beatings? The devices that won't work? Room seventeen? You disappearing or my apparent death?"

"When you put it that way…" The guards stop a few steps away and stay unmoving until John thinks that Rodney can't be here, it's not possible, and the guards will take him down any second now, because that is what guards do.

That is exactly what they do. They surround him and push him to the ground, like the schoolyard bully he was impersonating only moments before.

"Damn it, John! Stop it! It's you who's doing this!"

John's jaw is too busy being pounded by a fist to answer, but he does wonder why Rodney is not being detained, why he is the only one being beaten and why the Blob is there but not doing anything, much less taking their life force. Damn, everyone's after their life force! Every single person in this galaxy wants John's life, his essence, his soul, whatever they call it! He's sick. Of. It. SICK OF IT!

"Why are you doing this? We're almost there! Christ! You are a pain in the ass!"

John is dragged away by the guards and Rodney follows in continued berating. "You are such a jerk! You just want me to fail! Can't stand the idea of me saving you! You're little hero complex is annoying! You want to be the big man, loved and honoured by all? Fine! You beat them up, you beat them up **now**!"

"Rodney, just go away!"

"Oh my GOD! You still think you're making me up, don't you? You idiot! Fine! You asked for it! I'm going to kick some ass!" Rodney hopes he is creative enough to give himself some great moves. Knowing the whole environment, including the guards, is not real is incredibly freeing. There is no need for fear; this is Rodney's mind and it is as powerful as anything John can imagine. He will not stop them because he has trust and insanity issues, Rodney will not allow it!

John watches in amazement as Rodney grabs one guard by the arm and pulls him away. He spins him around so they are standing face to face and lands one beautiful left-hook on his delicate bone structure. With a satisfied smile he turns to the other guards, repeats the process and lets out a smug, "Ha!" as he watches them tumble to the ground and roll down the hill, cackling gleefully. He turns back to John who stands in transfixed astonishment, speaking in a hushed and reverent tone, "What did you _do!"_

"I kicked their asses, that's what!" He turns away, facing in the gate's direction where the Blob remains. "Now I'm going to deal with you, good for nothing sci-fi icon." He takes a few menacing steps, touches the Blob and amazes John, all in less than a minute.

Brushing off frozen green bits of used to be sentient goo off his face, John thinks he would never have figured Rodney capable of such things, though he should have known the man could kill things with his brain. He has no time to contemplate this unsettling concept as he is grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged to the gate.

"You will NOT think of anything, got it? I won't be fighting any more guards today! You will go through the gate and be grateful that you know a genius such as me! Grateful!" The rest is a whiney grumbling. "My fists hurt."

John nods, in a slightly dazed state, Rodney frowns and they reach the DHD.

--- ---

Teyla wore a similar incredulous expression as she thought that they had truly ignored Rodney's potential. Watching them wait for the wormhole to form, she believed all that was left to do was put two and two together.

It happened much faster than she had expected. As she watched Sheppard and McKay step through their illusionary gate, she heard a lurching sound. The squish split in two parts and bodies stumbled out.

Ronon was first to reach them. He couldn't help thinking that it was never this easy, but was not going to frown at their good fortune; they were overdue.

Sheppard groaned as he struggled to open his eyes. He heard a very similar sound coming from his left and all the blood he contained was replaced by relief. Any thoughts he might have generated were pushed aside for random words such as alive, sane, out, home, and… "Rodney?"

"Uhn…"

"Very articulate." John felt hands on his arms and he was pulled off the ground. He encountered Ronon's gaze. "Hey."

"Sheppard." Ronon smiled.

Teyla was at Rodney's side, soothing his numerous woes. "All is right, Rodney, we will be going home shortly."

"Really?"

"Yes. You did very well. We are proud of you…Ronon and I think it would be wise to train with you, you seem to have natural abilities."

He smiled. This was turning into quite a good day, despite the many aches and the concerning fact of their gelatine detainment. He welcomed the assisting hands that eased his rise off the ground and was soon standing upright, facing a smiling Sheppard.

"Hey Rodney. How you doing?"

"Good, much better. My fists are not throbbing and my nose doesn't hurt." He eyed Sheppard pointedly but was undone by the wide grin he found upon his face. "You?"

"Good, pretty damn good." Oh yeah, this was the life. Live friends, a complete team, and hey! Lokas!

They grinned inanely, under the amused gazes of Teyla, Ronon and Lokas. All that was left to do was wait for Jusyta and hope they would be freed. It seemed that, for once, all they needed were ruby slippers. If they happened to come in the shape of a tall redheaded man, who were they to complain?


	18. Chapter 18

Angela! I will love you forever! (yes, it's a threat...be afraaaaid!)

**Notes: **Beware the mush and the talks of feeeeeelings :)

**Lambda**

As they entered the gateroom, Rodney voiced the thoughts running through his everyone's minds. "I can't believe how easy that was! Are we sure we're home?"

"I think so."

Elizabeth hurried down the stairs, smiling widely. "Welcome back!"

John nodded in acknowledgement. "Good to be back!"

"Beckett is expecting you."

"I'm sure he is."

"Oh wow, now I know we're home! Even I wouldn't subject myself to the horrors of that Scottish blood-thirsty fiend."

"Rodney." One stern school marm look from Elizabeht was all John needed to confirm they were home. He could never invent people like this.

So it was that they went from the gateroom to the infirmary, from the infirmary to the showers and from the showers to the briefing room.

"We owe thanks to Lokas then?"

"Yes. His presence allowed us our freedom. Jusyta, the man who was up for severance, was more than happy to participate in the Lopstak's experiment, rather than find himself sent to all corners of the universe." Teyla had been shocked at the young man's willingness, but she could now see how he would benefit from Lokas' newly formed alliance. He would not be severed, would find himself living a dream, or a nightmare depending on what his mind would reveal. He would live, safe and whole, until such time as his duty was done, his crime was erased. Thankfully, the alliance between Mira and the Lopstack had been dissolute under Lokas' recommendation and they had been assured, before stepping through the gate, that she would no longer be a threat to them. Lokas was an honourable man, what he said would be done.

"It's hard to believe the Lopstack simply released you."

Rodney took this comment as a personal insult. "They're no match for me! I'm brilliant! I could manipulate their little make-believe world like that," he snaps his fingers on the last word, "and once I knew that, _I_ didn't see anyone or anything I didn't want to see." He frowns in Sheppard's direction.

"Yes, you were very impressive, thank you for showing me the way."

"It was impressive, wasn't it? You should've seen me! I wasted that Blob in a second flat! And, we're here, we escaped in a very heroic fashion once more, all thanks to me!"

"Heroic, right." Let not the scientist gloat today, for he will be insufferable forever.

"What! We did! I was amazing! I'm just sorry we don't have the Telepathicon."

"We are not calling it that! It's a…Bug." Sheppard gave a decisive nod of his head and a proud smile.

"Oh like that's any better!"

Elizabeth cleared her throat, one eyebrow raised. "Gentlemen?" Both men returned their attention to her and she continued with the debriefing. "What happened, exactly, in the…Pensey?" Elizabeth was surprised to see the team sitting around the table twitch noticeably. Even more surprised when Ronon volunteered information.

"It saw in their minds and showed it on a screen. It was an experiment. A newer model of the nan –"

"Nanovirus! Can you believe it! It was them! It was just an experiment gone wrong! That whole thing could've been avoided if the Ancient had been a bit more careful!" The silence left when Rodney stopped speaking was heavy with regrets. So many lives lost, for nothing.

"Let us be glad they had time to perfect the Pensey, or we would have suffered the same faith." Wise Teyla, who could see the good in every situation, who tried never to dwell on lives that were no longer enjoyed. Who preferred to keep the pleasant memories and forget that they were all that was left.

Sensing this was not the time for an in-depth analysis of their mission, Elizabeth decided to wait for the reports, having heard of the bulk of their time spent in captivity. "Yes, thank you Teyla. Now I think a few days of rest are in order? All of you, eat and sleep. I don't want to see you until tomorrow."

They exited the room in silence and found themselves at the same mess hall table, which was not unusual.

A few bites into their dinner saw Ronon break the silence. "McKay?"

"Mmmm?"

"What's a thesis?"

"What?"

"A thesis?"

"Oh…ummm. It's a, document. An idea, a theory presented to a committee when someone goes for higher degrees in university. That's a school, where you, uh learn and –"

Ronon didn't care for the explanation, he simply thought this would be a good way to bring forth the subject of the squish and what he thought needed to be said. "What happened to the one that was stolen from you?"

Rodney, who had been in the process of filling his fork with mashed potatoes and peas, dropped it in a clatter. Teyla raised an eyebrow at Ronon but did not intervene. This was his conversation to lead.

"What do you mean?"

"That woman who stole your research, what happened to her?"

"Oh…well…she…nothing really…"

"Why not? She stole your thesis."

"She did have some of my research, but not enough to help her that much. My theories where too advanced for her, of course." Rodney pondered the strange line of questioning for a moment. "So, uh, I suppose you saw that, eh?" A small, uneasy laugh escaped the scientist.

"Yeah. She was an idiot. She shouldn't have done that."

"No…no I guess not."

Ronon raised his head from his plate and gave Rodney an assessing gaze. "You're right."

"Yes, of course! About what?"

John snorted but gestured for Ronon to continue.

"You're surrounded by idiots."

"Yes! Thank you!" A smug look crossed Rodney's face and he returned to his plate, happy to leave the conversation at that.

"Tell us, Ronon, how did you reach that conclusion?" John could see there was something more, anybody with half an ounce of awareness would see that. Of course, this was Doctor Rodney 'if it's not coming out of my mouth it's not important' McKay.

"Most people don't give a damn about McKay. They see the annoying, insulting bastard, take what they can use and walk away."

Another fork clatter from Rodney's vicinity drew a smile from Sheppard. "And that's wrong?"

Teyla took this one, hoping Rodney would hear and believe her. Hoping they could put the past to rest. "It is. Rodney is much more than that. He is dedicated, courageous and passionate. Those who walk away deprive themselves."

Rodney was staring, mouth agape.

"Yeah, what she said." One down, one to go, Ronon thought. This kidnapping and mind-reading business had turned out better than expected.

"Oh God! Are you pod-people?"

Sheppard let out a bark of laughter, but no one answered Rodney's obvious effort at diffusing what he perceived to be an embarrassing situation.

Ronon wasn't quite finished. "People who walk away without seeing what's there are stupid. People who think everyone will walk away and do pre-emptive walking are also stupid."

Ok, John could face this. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Why do I get the feeling that one's directed at me?"

"Because it is."

"You trying to tell me something, Ronon? You handling me like you did McKay?"

"Hey! He so did not handle me!"

"I am."

"Ok, maybe a little. I let him though! It's not like I didn't know what was going on!"

John stared at Ronon who stared right back. Waiting for the quiet nod or the scrape of a chair as Sheppard walked away again.

"You telling me I've been stupid?"

"I'm telling you what I saw."

"So you saw a little bit of my life and now you're the expert?"

John's eyes had narrowed, but Ronon was not backing down. "No. Just telling you what I saw."

The quiet nod never came. The chair scraping and the walking away did. Only problem was, Teyla Emmagen would not allow her team, their team, to go on as it had, in hurt and anger. Respect for other's, she had; care for other's space, she did; suffer the idiocy of men akin to small boys, she would not. As John walked around the table, intent on escaping his team's prodding, a hand shot out and grabbed the tail of his shirt. He was effectively immobilized, and none too pleased even if a raised eyebrow was the only indication. "Teyla?"

"We will bring you dessert." She made it a promise and a threat. It told him he would be found and had better deal with it.

He nodded, was released and left at a slower pace.

Rodney pointed his fork at Ronon and remarked casually, "Now you've done it. Reminiscing with Ronon was not a good Sheppard tactic."

"Apparently not."

"Aren't we going to do anything about it? He's just going to sulk and then pretend it didn't happen."

"I believe it would be wise to leave him alone for the moment. We will allow him time to…sulk…but he will not be allowed to pretend. It is time we, as you say, clear the air." Teyla looked at Rodney intently. "In that spirit, I would like to apologise to you Rodney. I do not always understand you, but you shouldn't be made to pay the price for my failings. I regret hitting you, and the many things I said once we were free of the veil."

A blushing and babbling McKay, with hands flailing, clearing some air of their own, was certainly endearing. "Oh, well, Teyla…don't worry…it was the Pensey wasn't it? I'm not the easiest person to….what I mean is you're nice…and uh…I don't think you have anything to apologise…and well, I understand…and it doesn't matter…and…" He fell silent, feeling ever so slightly lame.

"Thank you Rodney."

He smiled, but it was weak and disappeared too fast. His gaze returned to his meal. "I'm…uh…you know…well…sorry….too…"

"You are most forgiven."

They returned to their dinner, the Colonel's tray taking more space than it should on the table. A few minutes were spent in reflection but it quickly turn to a debate, in Rodney's mind. Curiosity would surely be the end of scientists everywhere someday, but the question had to be asked, regardless of the consequence. "What else did you see?"

Ronon finished chewing, slowly, before he answered. "All of it. You remember it, I saw it."

"So…my family? And…Siberia and all that?"

"Yeah."

"Oh…well…you're not…I mean, it's between, uh, us…right?"

"Yeah."

"Oh good, those are very personal things and if it were to come to the wrong ears, it might be somewhat…problematic."

"You should forget about all that. Not worth the memory it uses."

Rodney made a non-committal sound.

"You're an okay guy McKay. Shouldn't let anyone tell you different."

"I know that."

"Good."

Teyla smiled indulgently as silence fell upon their table, though the heaviness it had carried before was no longer present. The time for a Sheppard confrontation came, and she strengthened her resolve. Ronon had done his part, in allowing the knowledge he had garnered to be put to good use. Now, it was their turn. She rose from her seat, took the cupcake left on Sheppard's tray and, with Ronon and Rodney on each side, made her way to their balcony. How was it that it was theirs, and that it contained all the bad memories, all the horrors found on missions, she could not explain, but theirs it was nonetheless and she was certain they would find John, if the Colonel knew what was good for him. She would not take kindly to being forced to chase him through the city.

As it was, they found him there, leaning over the railing, watching the waves hit the side of Atlantis, as he tended to do when outside her metallic shell.

"John?"

He straightened but did not turn. He had no wish to see them at the moment, to be with them. The last few days had taken their toll on him, he had had enough. First, half his team had abandoned him, then Rodney had killed himself, and now Ronon was telling him he'd seen it all? Seen John breakdown and care, _care_ so much he couldn't function anymore. It was not a good thing to do as the military commander of a base filled with people who were little more than meals on legs. You couldn't allow yourself to care too much, if at all.

Rodney leaned beside him, watching the sun dip over the horizon. Funny how they always seemed to run and subsequently chase each other. It was unavoidable John supposed, and it was his turn to retreat. Last one had been Rodney's. Last time, John had been the one dying, Rodney had been the one unwilling to care. It never worked did it, for here he was, seeking John out, leaning in close and waiting. Caring for the both of them. As did Teyla and Ronon. They were a team, pulled through the same things together, but never really dealt with the after-effects together. How ridiculous was that?

"Where's my dessert?" A cupcake appeared on his left, held by a slender, golden hand. He chuckled and took it. "Thanks."

"You are welcome."

Searching for a neutral subject, he latched on the first that presented itself. "What's happening tonight?"

"Apparently, we're standing here waiting for you to get over yourself."

"Rodney!" Teyla chastened him, but would play this game. "We are not waiting for John to get over himself, we are waiting for him to stop behaving like a little boy."

That drew an amused smirk from both Rodney and Ronon, and a frown from John. "Hey!"

"Are you denying your attitude has been childish?"

"Yes!"

"You should not, it has been."

"It's been a tough month!" John was not going to stand here and be insulted. He was perfectly within his right to behave as childishly as he wished!

"For us all, John."

A long sigh preceded the admission of a weary man, "Yeah, I s'pose."

The renewed silence was broken with all the finesse of a John Deere Tractor ploughing the fields. "Are you pissed off because of Ronon or because you didn't get to be the hero?"

John stood, letting the fresh sea air brush past him. He hated to be found out like that. He felt violated and had no cause; it was Ronon! It didn't matter if he knew more than he should, he wouldn't tell a soul nor use it against him. He had been angry for close to thirty seconds, but when Teyla's hand had slithered out and prevented him from walking away, again, it had done more than any words anyone had ever spoken. She had held on to him, told him he would not be allowed to remove himself from them and…somehow, that had shifted the weight of…the weight he had been carrying for so long. He could walk away, but they would chase, as they had. John was a lazy man and walking away a tiresome business; perhaps it was time to stop. He turned to Rodney and snorted in belated outrage before realising the scientist's tongue was very much in his cheek. "I'm not pissed off. I just don't like people…too close." Oh, how very juvenile that sounded.

"We'd noticed that." Ronon took a step forward, hearing John was not angry with him.

"We will not go away. You will have to find a way to accept it."

And wasn't that the problem; accepting them as his own. Not simply because he had to protect them, because he couldn't allow anyone he liked to come to harm, but because they were _his_…as he was theirs. "I know."

Clapping his hand, Rodney spoke with false cheer. "Good! Can we go do something now?"

Teyla frowned at him but the tension that eased out of John was reassuring.

"You guys go ahead, I'll catch up."

"Soon?" Teyla inquired.

"Soon," John confirmed, truthfully. After they left, he thought for more time than he cared to count. In the end, he supposed it was already too late. He had already allowed Rodney, Ronon and Teyla to be more important than they should. No matter what he did, he would suffer just as much were they to leave him. It didn't make sense to shut them out. He was better than that. Wouldn't let some childhood fears rule his life and decisions. It would not be simple to change the habit of a lifetime, but it would be easier than avoiding them. It seemed they would not longer allow him to run, they knew better. Damn Ronon, he sure was something else! John turned and entered Atlantis.

Passing before a door, he heard the dulcet tones of one berating astrophysicist. He paused on the threshold to the common room and watched his strange family interact. "Hey."

"John." Teyla nodded, indicating the space left for him on the couch.

Ronon watched him sit before being reprimanded by Rodney. "Concentrate!"

"This is a pointless and boring game." The warrior rose, much to Rodney's dismay.

"Hey! We're not done."

"Sheppard can take over." Ronon waited by the couch for Sheppard to vacate his seat. They exchanged a look and it was understood that the unpleasantness of earlier was forgotten. Both men knew Ronon had been right.

"Jeeee, thanks." He got up nonetheless and walked to the chessboard.

"Oh well, ok. More challenging opponent anyways."

"Was that a compliment?"

"Don't flatter yourself! Ronon doesn't even know how to play! You can't possibly be worst!"

A snort of laughter escaped the Colonel and the evening was spent in friendly banter.

--- ---

Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock. The pendulum of a grandfather clock.

Clink-clink-clink-clink-clink. The swing of dog tags whilst a soldier trains.

Shwoosh-shwoosh-shwoosh. The smooth motion of waves around Atlantis.

Followed by the soundless back and forth of a body.

Swish-swish-swish-swish. "NO!" The rise to consciousness of John Sheppard as he untangled from the sheet and pushed away the unwanted dream.

One image filled his head, taking everything away, leaving him with an urge he knew to be unreasonable but couldn't control.

He was out of his room, running down the hall before reason caught up with him. He stopped at a door beyond which lay the night's special brand of sanity. He raised his fist and hit the metal door one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine; he hit it until it wasn't under his fist anymore, until it retreated into the wall to allow him a glimpse of life. Glorious, grumpy, grumbling life.

"John?"

He no longer saw the pendulum, the heavyset frame swinging from the ceiling, the blue eyes devoid of any feelings. He plunged hazel into annoyed blue and breathed at last. "Rodney."

"What's happening?"

John shrugged. "Nothing much."

"Can I help you with something? You'd better say yes, because if this is a social call I will sell your ass to the next interested party I see."

"I was just checking." John entered the room even though he hadn't been invited and settled his soon to be sold ass on Rodney's desk.

"Checking?" Rodney scanned the floor for a pair of trousers, found jeans and ungracefully slipped into them. He then sat on the bed and waited for his friend to tell him what had brought him to his quarters in the middle of the night. He supposed Ronon's comment over dinner had something to do with the surprise.

"Yeah, you know, checking everything's alright." John looked at Rodney expectantly.

"Well…as you can see," he said, indicating his room with a large sweeping motion, "everything is has good as it's going to get tonight."

"Right."

They sat in silence, John avoiding Rodney's curious gaze until the scientist grew tired of this new game. "Are you going to tell me why you're here or should I guess?"

"I was just checking…" He hoped Rodney would understand, wouldn't force him to say that he had run from a nightmare.

"So you've said. Checking what?"

"You."

"Oh…ah…why?"

"I dreamt you were dead."

"Oh. I'm not."

"Yeah…I see that." He stood, moved away from the desk, toward the door. "I'll let you get back to sleep." He had almost reached his destination when Rodney spoke.

"I wouldn't, you know...I wouldn't do that."

"I know."

"Really, I wouldn't leave you there. It's never going to happen."

"You're going to die someday."

"Of course I am, don't be ridiculous, the universe hates me! I mean, not like that…I wouldn't do that…"

"I know. I guess I just..."

"No, I know. I get it, trust me, I get it. It's just, you should know, you're never going to find me like that."

John sat down again, on the desk, arms crossed as if in protection. "I already did."

Rodney's eyes searched the impassive face. "It wasn't real."

"I don't know, it still seems real to me. I can still…" He breathed in deeply, trying to chase away the images. "I can see it, see you." He pointed to his head. "It's in there and it seems so damn real, it's like it happened and I just…I woke up and I thought it had…"

"I know what you mean...no matter how many times you come back to life…I'm still stuck with the memories of when you were dead, or at least when I thought you were."

They sat silently, for the umpteenth time that day, before John came to a conclusion. "We're stupid fucks." Pretty good conclusion to reach, he thought.

Rodney's head snapped up, surprised and a little bit insulted. "And why is that?"

"We put up with all the bad scar you for life crap and we never reap the benefits…what Ronon said…it's true you know."

"It's easier to walk away."

"How is it that a guy who's been alone for seven years handles this better than we do? It's stupid, this being friends thing, we're going about it all wrong."

"How's that? I thought we were doing ok…I mean, it's fun, isn't it? We have fun…" He was getting slightly nervous. Was he? Was he being…_dumped_, in some strange, unromantic and asexual way?

"Sure, we hang out, get into more trouble than is humanly possible. It's fun, you're fun, but it's all a little...it's too little. I know you like I know my jumper. I know how you work, where you are most of the time, how far I can push you. I know you'll be there in a flash, get me out of most tight spot and I trust you. I just don't know what it's like for you. That's stupid! We get all the damn hardship and none of the benefits! Jesus, we're always fucking alone, you know? It shouldn't be like that!"

"Everybody's alone." He didn't want to, but he had to believe it.

"No! See, that's the problem, right there! We shouldn't be! After all that crap I should have the right to barge in here and sit on your damn desk if I want to! You shouldn't say a damn thing about it! You should just sit there and take it! You –" he stopped when Rodney held his hand up.

"Please take note of the present situation. Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you not sitting on my desk, sitting on the paper I'm working on but I'll let that slide, and am I not sitting here _taking it_?" Of course he did the air quotes, he always did the air quotes.

John loved the air quotes. "Ok, fine. Point is, it shouldn't be stupid for me to be here!"

"It's not. You thought I was dead, you came to check, end of story. It's quite flattering actually that you would risk ridicule to assure yourself of my safety. I'd even go as far as say it's quite…_sweet_…"

"Oh shut up!" John grinned, realising that Rodney understood. Of course he did. Rodney _got _it, Rodney got _him_, even if he didn't get much else that couldn't be read in a book or learned by oneself.

"Are we done here, I do have work to do tomorrow."

"Yeah, I've got pretending to work to do tomorrow."

"Right you are, my little military friend."

"Screw you."

"You wish. Now leave." He pointed at the door with an imperious finger.

John snorted and made his way to the door. He turned, just before palming the controls. He didn't speak, only looked at the man who stood at the foot of his bed, in old jeans and a ratty t-shirt. The man simply looked back. Very much alive.

The door closed, separating bodies. Thoughts intertwined as both men went back to bed to claim the last restful hours of the night.

Not too far away, Kate Heightmeyer whimpered in her sleep, assailed by images of long hours spent in Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay's company. One speaking too little, the other speaking too much; both saying remarkably similar things.

**Fini!**

**(oh God, yes, one word, better than chocolate)**

Thank you all very much for your kind and funny comments :) I've had fun, hope you had too, and it is a promise that in the next fic, no one dies...or cries :) Enough is enough! Good day to all!


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